


Old Habits, As They Say

by FalseTestimony



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game), Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Yharnam Sunrise Ending, and also daud says swears, but things get bloody and theres talks of stuff related to shitty mental health, cant think of anything else to tag right now but ill put any warnings that might come up to be sure, i feel like should make it clear that there's no romance or sex or anything, i mean its bloodborne and dishonored what do you exepect, so thats why its rated m
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 13:33:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18053468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalseTestimony/pseuds/FalseTestimony
Summary: Corvo always seems to meet the oddest of people.OrOur Good Hunter finds himself more than a bit lost.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Corvo encounters a stranger, and the Hunter finds his past difficult to escape.

The first time Corvo saw the strange man, it was on the Old Waterfront. A lone figure on the docks, gazing up a whaling trawler as it slowly crawled by, its haul slung onto its back. One usually didn’t find people standing around looking at boats, you tried to keep your head down and hurry along in these days.  
But there the figure stood, clad in a heavy gray goat and a rough triangular hat, the feather coming off it twitching in the breeze like a dying bird, a cane clutched unneeded in hand, observing the dead whales silently.

  
_He’s killed beasts greater than these with his own hands. He wonders why they need a whole ship to bring one down._ The Heart whispered, its words striking Corvo as odd. He looked over at the whale. It was an enormous thing, to bring one down alone would be nigh impossible. He found himself also watching the trawler go by, silently considering the technicalities of bringing down one of these beasts.

By the time he looked back over to the man, he had disappeared.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that week, he saw the strange silhouette on the rooftop across from him, framed by the moon. The man from the docks (he realized from the strange hat) made no effort to make himself hidden from those who might be looking, unlike Corvo, whose back was tightly pressed up against a chimney to hide his shape. For a brief moment, Corvo wondered if he was going to jump.

  
That certainly would’ve made more sense than what the man did instead.

  
Calmly, gracefully, he raised his arms, the left raised above his head, the right laid flat a right angle to it, and then simply stood. Corvo watched in confusion. It was a strange gesture, but seemingly held no purpose other than to attract attention.

  
After about a minute, if Corvo had to guess, the man slowly switched sides, the right arm now pointing upwards. He held the position for a few more seconds before dropping his arms, the disappointment evident in his frame.

  
An interesting display to be sure, but Corvo had to get past the man, and even if he didn’t seem hostile, Corvo was pretty certain that being suddenly confronted by a man in a frightening mask would elicit a response from most people. He blinked to the next rooftop over, careful to align himself next to a chimney to stay out of view. Normally, a simple move that wouldn’t attract the attention of even the most alert guard, but this man immediately turned in his direction, the cane, which appeared to be bladed, Corvo noticed, suddenly appearing in his hand. By the way he looked around, Corvo figured the man hadn’t spotted him yet, but that wouldn’t last long.

  
“I know you’re there. If you’re looking for a fight, I must warn you; I don’t know how to fight nonlethally.” the man called out, his voice muffled by the scarf covering the lower part of his face, his accent foreign. It was strange, Corvo couldn’t place it to anywhere in the Isles. But the comment was enough that Corvo figured trying to hide any longer would only cause more trouble. Slowly, he straightened up, hands raised in a show of peace. The stranger quickly backstepped, drawing a gun and pointing it at him, a move seemingly made out instinct. It was an old-fashioned pistol, the like of which hadn’t been used in years in Dunwall. Corvo wondered why on earth someone would use something so archaic. After quickly realizing that Corvo had no weapons drawn, the man lowered the gun, breathing a sigh of relief.

  
“Thank the gods.”- plural, Corvo noticed- “Not a beast.” The statement was more to himself than to Corvo. “What are you doing up here?” The man seemed more irritated and embarrassed than frightened, not even mentioning the mask.

  
“I could ask you the same thing.”

  
“Ah.” The man looked up at the moon. “I’m just, uh, enjoying the view.” That was a blatant lie if Corvo ever heard one.

  
“Strange way to enjoy the view.” The stranger shot him a look.

  
“You saw that?”

  
Corvo didn’t reply.

  
The man sighed. “To tell you the truth, I’m a little lost. I was trying to contact something that might help me, but-” he paused, carefully considering the roof tiles for a moment. “It clearly didn’t work.”

  
“I’ve never seen anyone try to contact The Outsider like that.” Corvo’s statement was met with a confused stare.

  
“The Outsider?”

  
_He knows of the Void, though not by name, and what The Outsider could be, but not of him. He’s more than a stranger to this city._ The Heart whispered softly. The stranger stiffened, eyeing the normally invisible clockwork organ, and softly muttered something under his breath, his grip on the cane tightening.

  
It seemed like this was a man full of surprises.

  
“I think we need to talk.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been several months since Emily had been restored to her rightful place on the throne, and Corvo thought that, at least for little while, he’d be able to live in peace. But here he was, standing in a derelict, abandoned building on the edge of Flooded District that had been serving has his new acquaintance’s living space for the past few days, a wrench thrown into his plans. If this was the Outsider’s idea, he was going to punch the black-eyed trickster next time he saw the deity.

  
He’d removed his mask at this point, deciding to forgo it after his companion pulled his scarf down and took his hat off, placing them on a crate next to what could be justified as a place to sleep. Corvo flinched a little at the man’s appearance: clean-shaven and surprisingly timid-looking, his appearance would make him more at home among the natural philosophers if the large scar stretching under his eye and the scar tissue around his chin didn’t disrupt his features so harshly. Whatever happened there must have been painful.

  
“May I ask your name?” The man looked up at Corvo’s inquiry, then back at the small vials he had been fiddling with.

  
“Don’t have one. Not one that I can remember at least. I’m a Hunter, call me that. If you really need a proper name, I guess John will work. Good Hunter is what I’m used to, though.” He looked back up at Corvo. “And you?”

  
“Corvo Attano.” Figuring that this man, this hunter, didn’t know of the Outsider, it was unlikely that he knew of Corvo either.

  
“Corvo Attano.” The hunter repeated. “That’s a good name. I’ve always had a fondness for crows.” The was a brief flash of sadness across his face, but it was quickly replaced by a neutral expression. “So, Mr. Attano, how can I help you?”

  
“Where are you from? I don’t recognize your accent.” Corvo figured he wouldn’t know whatever the hunter would say in return, but it would be nice to at least have a name.  
“...Yharnam.” The hunter’s voice was full of fear and regret. “Well, maybe not technically. But it doesn’t make a difference now.”

  
Corvo felt a chill ran down his spine. He knew nothing of this place, but the gravity of which the hunter said its name made him feel dread.

  
“Why are you here?”

  
The hunter was silent for a while, carefully studying his gloves.

  
When he finally responded, his voice was soft, but edged with steel. “I have no reason why. I have a how, but that’s not something I’m willing to give you.”  
It seemed like that would be a touchy subject that Corvo would have to address later.

  
The hunter held up one of his vials to the dim light of the moon streaming in through a broken window. The liquid inside was dark, thick, red; blood, Corvo quickly realized.

  
“All still here. Good.” The hunter muttered to himself, setting the vial down amongst its companions, carefully packaging them back up into a leather bag. Corvo took a step closer to get a better look, seeing the numerous blood vials before the hunter closed the bag up, setting it close to some similar bags on a crate that was being used as a temporary table. The hunter noticed Corvo’s curious, if not concerned, look and provided an answer to the silent man.

  
“Yharnam was the home of the curious practice of blood ministration; a miracle cure for whatever ails you. Yharnam blood can heal you of your wounds and diseases, but it’s not without its dangers.” He chuckled darkly. “I try to keep it around though, especially now that I no longer dream.”

  
_He was told to find his worth in the waking world. Is he even awake?_ The hunter’s strange, offhand comment mixed with the Heart’s whisper only gave Corvo further questions.  
The both of them looked up at the sound of moaning.

  
Corvo’s questions would have to wait it seemed, as they had the more pressing manners of weepers to attend to. Corvo told himself that he was going to find this hunter a more reasonable place to stay; the house was proving itself to be an inhospitable place of residence.

  
But weepers he could handle. The next sound he heard was something unfamiliar and alien. The closest he could compare it to would be the growl of a savage beast, but the ragged breathing that offset it made it seem more human, somehow. It was a sound the hunter recognized evidently, the glint in his eyes growing sharp with alarm and determination. He quickly put a finger to his lips, casting a meaningful look that Corvo knew well: “Stay quiet.” Carefully, but swiftly, the stranger grabbed his cane and gave it a sharp twist on its handle, quickly segmenting the cane into sharp, bladed pieces of metal, although for what reason Corvo couldn’t tell.

  
The hunter crept towards the origins of the two sounds, which emanated from behind a collapsing brick wall of the building, Corvo following s short distance behind. If Corvo had been the one in front, he would have been more tactful about eliminating the threat, picking off the weeper before observing and dealing with the other possible threat. The hunter was much more cavalier about his approach. Sidestepping around the wall, the hunter swung his arm and flicked his wrist, a motion that caused the segmented cane extend, whipping out and around, practically eviscerating the weeper within a couple blows. A very visceral, but efficient and elegant weapon, Corvo had to admit.

  
The weeper fell to the ground, put out of its misery, but by the huffing and snarling coming from the shadows, Corvo knew that neither he nor the hunter could relax just yet.  
With what Corvo might almost call reckless abandon if the moves weren't clearly so practiced and calculated, the hunter dashed forward, whipping the creature, before quickly hopping back. It got the thing’s attention and it roared in anger and pain, shuffling out into the light to get revenge against its attacker.

  
What Corvo saw made his stomach drop.

  
It looked like it might have been human once, but it was nothing of the sort now. It appeared more wolf-like, skin unnaturally stretched over elongated limbs, and a mouth of long, sharp teeth. Its eyes were cloudy, and they spun in their sockets unnaturally, before they fixated on the hunter, the beast's body tensing to sprint towards the man.  
Quickly, the man shot his pistol, the impact causing the beast to stagger long enough that the hunter could whip it, serrating its skin, a spray of blood for every lash, until it fell to the ground, dead.

  
The hunter stamped the bladed whip against the ground, its segments sliding back into the shape of the bladed cane. He turned back to Corvo, his expression grim.

  
“Well, it seems that staying here for much longer no longer seems to be an option. Yharnam’s old scourge has followed me-” he paused, looking down at the wolf-like creature’s bloodied, lacerated corpse. “-but for what reason or how, I do not know.” He shook his head, his smile rueful. “And here I thought I had finally escaped it.”

  
He walked past Corvo back towards his temporary camp, and began to pack, shoving an array of bags filled with who knew what into a small trunk. He quickly shut the case, latching it tightly shut before Corvo had the chance to see its contents, sighing heavily as he he did so. Silence hung in the air for a moment before he spoke.  
“I hate to ask this of you, but do you know of a place I could stay?”

  
Corvo stayed quiet for a moment, considering the rather bloodied hunter and weighing his options. The hunter needed to clean up a little, to be sure, but the outfit he wore was rather smart and dignified, with the waistcoat and all, and if he came with Corvo and kept his head down, he wouldn't raise too many questions.

  
“How do you feel about palaces?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is like the first thing i've posted to anywhere since like middle school but idk, i liked how this is turning out and i figured "you know, why the hell not".  
> The Hunter is based off the yharnam sunrise ending because like. thats kinda fucked for your hunter huh. how do they cope with that. (he's also a personal interpretation bc the actual hunter in bloodborne has little to no personality, so i hope you like my interpretation i guess?)  
> okay cool if i write more of this i'll post it  
> Edit: ok wow i didn't realize that it formatted in such an unreadable way (I havent really used ao3 before). it should be more readable now, you can look at it without instantly dying


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Corvo is chastised for being late, and the hunter meets an empress.

The hunter stopped as the pair approached the Tower, taking in it’s rather intimidating walls. There had been attempts to undo the damage done during Burrows’ short reign, to make the palace more inviting and more like the seat of the Empress, not the fortress of an oppressor, but that was still a work in progress, so to speak

“Hm.” Corvo looked over at his companion’s brief hum of contemplation, catching a ghost of  nostalgic, if not sad, smile before the hunter noticed and went back to his standard expression of neutrality. He coughed awkwardly. “My apologies, it’s been sometime since I have visited someplace like this, and the welcome I received was much less warm.” The hunter paused, a rather bemused look forming across his face. “Well, that was a rather bad pun, wasn’t it.” He muttered softly to himself, Corvo barely catching his words. Corvo glanced around at the guards, who each respectfully nodded at him but gave the hunter, with his hefty suitcase and cane he clearly didn’t need, a rather curious look. Corvo wouldn’t exactly call it a warm reception, but he’d had worse.

They continued towards the Tower, making their way up the entry stairs.

“Corvo!”  The familiar voice of Captain Curnow caught Corvo’s attention, causing him to stop on the steps to allow the man to catch up. The captain eventually came to a halt next to the duo, his breathing a little labored from the running he had been doing to make it to them quickly. “Where have you been? You were supposed to be back from whatever you were doing several hours ago. The Empress has been quite worried.” 

“Sorry, I encountered some, uh, complications, shall we say.” The hunter muttered something vague about that being an understatement under his breath, but didn’t seem to take offense to being called a complication. Corvo glanced at the Tower entrance before asking “Is the Empress busy?”

Curnow shook his head. “No; she’s still waiting for you, I believe.” Corvo nodded his thanks. He turned towards the hunter, who was carefully considering the Kaldwin banner gently fluttering above the entrance, eyes darting around the crest. Corvo coughed to get the hunter’s attention, startling him out of his enrapturement of the flag. The man shook his head as if to clear it, muttering an apology, avoiding Curnow’s curious gaze. Corvo quickly thanked Curnow and continued his way up the stairs, the hunter close on his heels. 

The tower’s entry hallway was relatively empty, except for a few scattered guards and servants along the edges. As they entered, the hunter gave a pointed glance at Corvo.

“Empress?” 

Corvo sighed. “I serve as Her Majesty’s Royal Protector. A sort of high ranking, official bodyguard, if you will.” He quickly elaborated the last bit after seeing the hunter’s confused look at his title. He almost added his title of Royal Spymaster as well, but the title was still linked close enough with Burrows in his mind that it still stung.

The hunter was silent for a moment. Corvo could practically hear the cogs turning in the man's mind as he turned over what Corvo just said in his proverbial hands.

Something finally clicked in the hunter's mind, his eyes going wide as he realized that he was in the presence of someone  _ very important.  _ His posture immediately stiffened and straightened a little, squaring his shoulders from their original relaxed position. He bowed politely, his empty hand crossing over his chest.

“I should apologize for not carrying myself in a suitable manner, sir. Thank you for your generous offer of temporary residence in this fine place.” 

“No, it’s quite alright. And since you’re going to be staying here, you don’t need to be so formal with me at least.” While it was amusing to watch the hunter squirm, Corvo couldn’t help but feel a little bad for the man. That, and he didn’t want to continuously be hearing that sort of formal, flowery language spouting from a man who already clearly felt uncomfortable and out of place.

They mounted the stairs up to the throne room in silence, the hunter fidgeting with the end of his cane nervously as he took in his surroundings. Corvo noted that he seemed oddly fascinated with the lights in particular, occasionally glancing up to the ceiling from time to time to look at them. He accidentally caught the hunter’s gaze, causing the man to look rather embarrassed.

“I must say, I feel rather…” the hunter gestured, trying to think of an appropriate word. “... antiquated. There was nothing like this in Yharnam.” He chuckled. “If I weren’t so preoccupied with my current predicament, I’d take time to study it’s workings.”

_ He was a simple scholar before the hunt, and that curiosity still burns in him. Some days, he wishes he hadn’t searched for knowledge so extensively.  _ The Heart murmured, causing the hunter to flinch, stopping him midstep. He eyed the pocket where Corvo could feel the Heart gently beating against his chest. While he knew the man could see the Heart from their encounter on rooftop, the fact that he could hear it as well surprised Corvo. 

“Please don’t use it on me.” The hunter spoke softly, pleadingly. “I can feel it, searching me, my memories, my thoughts. I’ve already had my mind violated enough. Please.” Corvo blinked in surprise, but nodded silently, as the man was practically pulling into himself,. If Corvo had to guess, he'd say that the hunter was afraid of the Heart. It would be cruel to continue using it on him. The hunter’s shoulders relaxed when Corvo agreed, his relief evident

They eventually reached the throne room, the two of them slowing to a stop near the foot of the throne. Grand pieces of colorful blue cloth covered the walls to hide the in-progress renovations; messy, but a welcome change from Burrows oppressive decoration style.

“Wait here, I’ll go find the Empress so I can properly present you, since you’ll be staying as a guest.” 

“Alright. I’ll practice my bow, I suppose. It’s been a long time since I’ve greeted royalty." The hunter gave a chuckle that sounded a little forced, but then again, so was Corvo’s returning smile.

He whispered in a guard’s ear to keep an eye on the man on his way out. He wasn’t expecting anything from the hunter.

But it never hurts to be careful.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Luckily for Corvo, Emily was easily found in her room, her legs swinging impatiently over the edge of her bed. She was 11 now, but not by much, and Empress was only a title at this point, her royal duties still partially in the hands of her many advisors, including Corvo himself. But even for an 11 year-old Empress, she did well, and Dunwall and the Empire were showing signs of springing back. 

But still, Emily was only 11, and Corvo was very late for breakfast.

“Corvo! Where were you?” Emily exclaimed, jumping up as Corvo entered, stomping up to him in an indignant manner. “You were supposed to be back way sooner than this!”

Corvo let out a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry Emily, I got held up by someone unexpectedly. I wasn’t planning to take so long.” Emily scowled, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Who was it?” 

“No one you would know, he’s a somewhat of stranger to me as well. But someone who I think deserves my attention.” Emily’s look of irritation quickly turned to one of worry. “ I don’t believe he himself poses a threat to you,” Corvo quickly tacked on, and Emily’s face softened a little, “but I believe he’s unintentionally caught himself in a situation that I may be able to help with, and if I left him on the streets, I get the feeling the Overseers would call him a heretic and lock him up, even though he’s done nothing of the sort, as far as he’s aware.” Emily nodded slowly, considering Corvo’s words carefully before speaking.

“Does it have to do with the Outsider?” Corvo shrugged.

“I’m not sure. Maybe.” Another nod, then an eager gleam in her eye that Corvo knew well.

“Can I meet him?” Corvo smiled.

“He’s waiting in the throne room for us.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hunter was right where Corvo had left him, standing near the foot of the throne, fiddling with the buttons on his coat. The guard informed Corvo that the man had done nothing of note except fiddling with the cane, changing its form then stamping it back into place several times.

“It’s strange though,” the guard remarked, “he keeps talking to himself, but from what I can hear, it’s mostly nonsense.” Corvo shot a glance at the hunter from where he stood just out of view with Emily, who was watching the man with interest. The hunter was muttering to himself again, to quiet to hear properly, but it was repetitive, some sort of mantra if Corvo had to guess. He stepped into view, causing the hunter to look up expectantly.

Corvo gestured dramatically, like he was the officiator of some important meeting and not the protecting shadow he was used to being. But, there was no one else around, and somebody had to do it. 

“Presenting Her Majesty, Empress Emily Drexel Lela Kaldwin!” Emily walked forward, carefully stifling a giggle trying to make its way up her chest as she made eye contact with Corvo, before facing the hunter. The hunter kneeled, placing one arm over his chest, extending the other out to the right, and bowed his head.

“Your Majesty, I greet you and humbly thank you for the assistance offered to me by your Royal Protector.” Emily offered a polite little curtsey in response.

“Emily,” Corvo gestured to the still kneeling man, “this is,uh-” he faltered, remembering how the hunter had not given Corvo anything proper to call him by.

The hunter seemed to sense Corvo’s loss of ideas of what to introduce him as, and quickly took over, his head still bowed and his tone still formal. 

“I am the Good Hunter of Yharnam, Empress. I have no proper name, but that is my title, if you so wish to call me by it.”

Emily leaned towards Corvo, double checking to make sure that the hunter still had his head bowed and couldn’t see her. Corvo leaned towards her, lowering his head so it was on the same level as hers. Her brow was furrowed in thought and confusion, and she paused before whispering, “Where’s Yharnam?” in Corvo’s ear. 

Corvo shrugged and shook his head before whispering back,“I don’t know either. I’ve never heard of it before today.” Emily looked very relieved that she had not in fact forgotten a city that some diplomat from somewhere would have been miffed that she forgot its name. She and Corvo looked back at the hunter, who was still kneeling with his arm outstretched. 

“You can stand up, by the way.” Emily said, causing the hunter to start.

“Oh.” He slowly got up, pushing himself upwards with the cane, straightening his shoulders once he reached his full height, seemingly embarrassed at having to be told to stand up. He blinked owlishly down at Emily, as if he hadn’t really noticed how young she was until then. Emily looked back up at him with fascination, now that she had a better look at the curious scars on his face.

Corvo watched them in silence for a moment, amused at how fascinated they were with each other. 

“Alright,” he finally said, causing the two of them to look up at him in surprise, “let’s find the hunter his quarters and lets get you,” he looked at Emily with raised eyebrows, “to your lessons. They should have started about an hour ago, if I’m correct.” Emily stuck her lip out in a pout. 

“But I haven’t even had breakfast yet. And neither have you! And I bet the hunter’s hungry too!” She pointedly looked at the man in question, who was in the middle of picking up his suitcase that he’d pushed to the side. He looked up and furrowed his brow in consideration, before looking at Corvo sheepishly. 

“Well, I must admit, I am a little peckish…” Corvo sighed with a smile, shaking his head.

“Okay, breakfast first,  _ then _ we get you to your lesson. No ‘but’s this time.” Emily cheered at her successful diplomacy, and Corvo chuckled. 

The hunter smiled too, Corvo noticed, and it was a genuine one at that, not sad, cynical, lonely ones he’d seen earlier. It was a strange smile, rather lopsided, the scar tissue on the hunter’s chin stopping part of the grin half way. It reached his eyes, making sparkle dimly, faintly lighting them up from their standard dull grey of an overcast sky.

It was a strange smile, but not an unpleasant one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow yall thank you for the really nice responses!! I'm sorry i didn't respond to any comments, im just not sure how to respond in a way that doesn't make me sound like a doofus :') but seriously, thank you so much them! they really motivated me to actually continue this. this whole response was really unexpected, but i'm glad people like this!
> 
> this chapter can be summarized as   
> Corvo: here's the empress!  
> The Hunter: mister attano sir that's a child  
> Emily: i want breakfast
> 
> this chapter was a bit of filler and also kinda hard to write so if the writings a little wonky sometimes thats why but i really wanted to include emily bc i love her. but not to worry!  
> next chapter? outsider time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the hunter tries to pull his thoughts together, and Corvo takes a lot of things in stride.

Corvo and the hunter made their way down the carpeted hallway, having dropped Emily off for her lessons. Breakfast had been a pleasant one, if not a little energetic due to Emily’s seemingly boundless curiosity about the hunter, who had answered her questions dutifully to the best of his abilities: Had he been to a castle before? (Yes, he had.) What was it like? (Very cold.) What did he hunt? (Whatever needed hunting.) Why was he the Good Hunter and not just the Hunter? (It was a title given to him by a friend, and he hadn't found a reason to stop using it.) 

Corvo was eventually able to pry Emily away from the poor man’s side and hand her off to her tutors with a hug and a promise of climbing lessons later. The hunter laughed a little as they walked, the noise catching in the back of his throat from disuse.

“Empress Emily is a curious and clever one, Mr. Attano. Forgive me for being so bold, but I think she’s going to be a fine ruler, especially if she keeps up that charm.” Corvo chuckled, glad to see the hunter had taken a liking to her. 

“Don't encourage her, or I'll never be able to drag her away from you next time.” The hunter laughed again, the sound still choked and raspy.

“Yes, yes, I can see that. Now, you said something about quarters?” He gave Corvo an inquiring look before gesturing at the suitcase in his hand. “I would like to find somewhere to put my things.”

“I suppose we should sort that out.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hunter ended up in the room right next to Corvo’s, rather close to the Empress’ quarters as well. By the looks of it, it probably was supposed to be used as a storage room or perhaps an unusually large broom closet, windowless and rather dusty. A simple bed and a desk with a lamp had been set up on the hunter’s request and Corvo’s orders, but other than that it was sparse. The two of them had looked at other larger, more available rooms that were further away, but each time they entered the opulent guest suites, Corvo couldn’t help but notice the way the hunter tensed in the open spaces and shifted uncomfortably amongst the finery, his eyes nervously darting at the strange shadows wrought by chandeliers and statues. Corvo quickly turned the two of them around and asked for the empty room next to his to be the hunter’s temporary quarters instead. 

The hunter looked visibly relieved at the plainness of the room, setting down his suitcase next to the desk before sitting on the bed heavily with a sigh, barely missing the painting that had been messily hung to provide some color as he leaned against the wall. He looked at Corvo, eyes tired. 

“Dinner shouldn’t be for another hour or two, yes?” Corvo nodded in affirment. The hunter nodded absently in return, his eyes drifting around the room, resting briefly on his suitcase. “I’ll clean myself up before then and make myself at home. I’d hate to keep you from the duties I’m sure you have.” He looked back up at Corvo, his strange smile again quirking across his face. “Again, thank you for your kindness. This-” he gestured at the meagre room “-is incredibly generous of you. Come get me if you need anything, even if I have little to offer.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinnertime eventually rolled around, and Corvo found himself in front of the hunter’s door. The strange man had apparently been rather inactive the entire day, only poking his head out once to ask for some paper and ink from a maid passing by, according to the guard Corvo had posted discreetly near the room. Corvo frowned. Somewhat odd, but nothing dangerous yet. He was surprised that the hunter didn't even emerge for lunch, but Corvo had missed that too, so he really couldn't complain.

He gently knocked on the door, hearing movement and a muffled “Yes?” come from the other side.

“Good Hunter? It's Corvo. Her Majesty has asked me to fetch you; you'll be joining us for dinner.”

“Ah! Mr. Attano! Is it that time already?” The door opened, revealing that the hunter had indeed cleaned himself up. 

He had shed the heavy, grey overcoat and numerous straps and belts, leaving just a neat red vest as outerwear, the silver curve of a watch chain adding to the hunter’s best effort to look neat. The lack of the bulky coat revealed just how slight a figure the hunter was, lean enough that he made Corvo, who was already a limber man, look brawny in comparison. The man's scars were much more visible, now that they were no longer hidden by the coat's high collar and the worn scarf. The one on his chin spread down his neck in a wide mass before disappearing below his shirt collar. It was difficult to tell what exactly might have caused the scar, as it looked like something had ripped off the skin like it was made of paper. Corvo suppressed a shudder at the thought. The scars on the other side of the hunter's neck and the ones poking out from the partially rolled up sleeves were much more clear in their origins. Whatever had clawed up the hunter to almost literal shreds was something big, and also something Corvo hoped he wouldn't never have to meet. The image of the wolfish distortion of a man and the hunter's grim words of Yharnam's scourge following him briefly flashed through Corvo's memory, quickly grinding that hope underneath its boot heel.

“Yes, the sun’s just about to go down, and Emily’s starting to complain about being hungry; it’s most definitely dinner time.” The hunter smiled slightly at that.

“Of course, of course. Give me just a moment, I want to finish something.” The man retreated quickly back into the room, leaving the door open and giving Corvo a good view of the place.

Plastered to the walls were sheets of paper, strange symbols harshly drawn on them in ink, the lines scribbled and shaky like a madman’s handwriting. Corvo pulled the one nearest to him off the wall, his brow furrowed in concern as he looked at the straight line that split into seven at one point, like a much too neat tree or rather unsettling candelabra. If he didn’t know any better, he would think that the hunter was up to something heretical.

Outsider’s eyes, he couldn’t let anyone,  _ especially _ not an Overseer in here.

The sudden stopping of pen scratching on paper signalled to Corvo that the hunter had finished whatever he was doing over his desk.”

“Hunter…” Corvo spoke slowly, carefully, as the hunter straightened up, another piece of paper with another unsettling symbol desperately scratched on it in his hand. “What is this?” Corvo gestured at the room’s new disturbing decorations. 

The hunter looked at him, his face blank, then looked at the walls with a soft “Oh.” He quietly set down the new symbol back down on the desk, his brow furrowed in thought. “They’re Caryll runes. A visual form of the Great Ones’ incomprehensible voices.”

“Great Ones?” The hunter’s already furrowed brow creased even more.

“I… I don’t know what they were. Some called them gods. I never did.” He gently tugged at the rune in Corvo’s hand, taking it to get a better look, his fingers tracing the curves and lines. “This one means Deep Sea, I think.” He went back over to the table, picking up  the paper he’d left there. This rune seemed more harsh, commanding, like an upside down claw, a small circle below the rest of the figure being the only roundness offsetting it. Oddly enough, the hunter’s face softened as he looked at it. “I know this one stands for Hunter.” He put the paper back down on the desk, leaving the Deep Sea rune there as well. He gestured at the walls as he turned back to Corvo. “The rest are carved into my brain, but the meanings of them have faded, I’m afraid.” His eyes were full of worries and held back apologies when they met Corvo’s. “I do hope that this isn’t any trouble? It’s just… they fill my head and I prefer to get them out onto paper before I do anything foolish.” 

Getting madness out onto paper. Perhaps the hunter was even more like the natural philosophers than Corvo first thought.

“No, no, it’s fine.”, he said, shaking his head. “It’s just… I recommend putting these out of sight for now. You’ll be accused of heresy for certain if you leave them up.” The hunter gave a sharp nod, quickly taking the pieces off the wall, hurriedly pushing them into a desk drawer, slamming it shut, causing the various containers of liquid on the desk to rattle.

The two of them stood in silence for a moment, the walls of the room once again bare. 

The hunter finally spoke, his voice soft.

“Let’s just go to dinner. We can talk of this later.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner came and went with little incident, luckily. The normally curious Emily was unusually quiet (Corvo was glad he was able to wear her out with his climbing lessons), which meant the already rather soft-spoken hunter was silent for most of the meal, and Corvo was never one for idle conversation, so they ate dinner in a comfortable quiet.

Emily went to bed with little complaint, and by the time Corvo had finished tucking her in, he found the hunter’s door already closed, the room on the other side quiet, it’s occupant seemingly already asleep.

Corvo blacked out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Corvo knew the Void well enough, it’s strange cold, the sense of beginning and ending. It didn’t seem that long ago when he first stood there, a broken man, while it’s occupant “gifted” Corvo with his mark.

So Corvo knew he was in the Void the moment he opened his eyes.

The trouble was that it was not the Void he was used to seeing. Perversions of places in his memory, scenes frozen in time, small islands of cobblestone and rock, all unsteady and all things he knew to expect. This place was  _ different. _

Low stone walls and rough cobblestones, fighting against grass and flowers, pushed their way to an equally rough set of stairs. The stairs gently curled their way up to the entrance of a building, old and strange, vines creeping up its sides, it’s silhouette almost overtaken by the one of the tree behind it. Gravestones lined the path, their names faded, worn and unreadable. Beyond them, a wrought iron fence, and beyond that, a familiar misty grey, dotted with rocks and the occasional whale.

Corvo could only assume that this had something to do with the hunter; he was certainly  _ interesting _ as the Outsider liked to say. 

Speaking of the Outsider, Corvo needed to find him, if only to try to get a better grasp of the situation, although he doubted that the black-eyed god would be particularly helpful. He took a couple steps from where he stood, planning to start his search in the strange building, when a flash of red caught his eye.

Near the foot of the stairs, on a rough little seating area, sat a woman with pale hair in a woven cloak and simple dress, head bowed, seemingly asleep. Corvo approached slowly, not sure if the woman was real, or simply another one of the Outsider’s frozen illusions. His question was quickly answered as the woman jerked upwards with a soft “Ah!” and quickly, but gracefully, stood.

She was much taller than Corvo had expected. She blinked down at him, her face a look of soft surprise and confusion. As she folded her hands together in front her, Corvo noticed the jointed knuckles, made of porcelain and wire. A living doll? He filed the thought away as something to process later; he’d seen stranger things in his lifetime.

“My apologies, I must of nodded off. I am the Doll. But, sir, I cannot help but notice…” she tilted her head to the side, “you are not the Hunter, yet you are here in the dream.” Her voice was soft, polite, accented in a similar manner to Tyvians, but different enough that Corvo knew that she was not from there.

Corvo shook his head. “No, I’m not him.”

“No, my dear Corvo, you’re certainly not.” said a familiar voice to his right.

Oh, so  _ now _ the bastard finally decided to show up.

The Outsider floated in the space between the Doll and Corvo, a look of impassivity on his face as he glanced between the two. The Doll looked curiously up at the god, while Corvo was trying his best not to look annoyed. 

“The Hunter is a man trapped by his past, yet can barely remember most of it. What he learned that night clings tightly to his bones, ripping the rest of his identity away like the very beasts that he hunted. He couldn’t afford to choose mercy like you did. There were no happy endings for him.” The Outsider cocked his head. “You’re lucky that you had that option, Corvo. It would all have come crashing down otherwise.” His black gaze shifted to the Doll, who met it with a level of neutrality and calmness that Corvo doubted he could hold. “And yet it all might crash anyways. How do you think he feels, being dragged back into the nightmare he so desperately wanted to escape from?”

“I do not know, Outsider. I am just a doll, I do not feel.” A look of what might have been amusement briefly played across the Outsider’s face.

“Well, you can ask him yourself soon enough.”

From behind the closed oaken doors of the wizened building mere meters away came an anguished shriek, so loud and despairing and enraged and filled with wordless curses that Corvo didn’t recognize the voice till it softened to sobs.

On the other side of those doors, the hunter was crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my own goddamn fic: briefly alludes to Eileen for one (1) millisecond  
> my brain: nEAAAAAR FAAAAAAR WHEREVER YOU AAAAAAARE  
> (wow can u guess who my favorite bloodborne npc is)
> 
> this chapter's a bit longer than expected but I promised the outsider last time and by god I was gonna get the outsider in here even if hes only there for like 2 seconds  
> i just realized that I forgot something important abt the yharnam sunrise ending so that is being retconned as we speak
> 
> id like to give a shout out to corvo for not fucking losing it w the shit the hunter's accidentally dragging him into but also just like in general bc I love him  
> also the doll is here too!! I love her she's so fucking tall y'all.
> 
> In case you can't tell, chapter updates are going to be sporadic since I'm bad at writing and also school and life is hard, but hopefully next chapter will be soon-ish? There's gonna be a lot of talking


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the hunter realizes what a mess he's made of things, and Corvo realizes what a mess he's in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for some brief mentions of suicide in the first part of this, along with just some other unreality/ mental health stuff. Nothing too bad, but if you're sensitive to that kind of thing, skip till after the divider.

He knew this place.

Before he even opened his eyes, he felt the familiar wood of the floorboards and the roughness of the carpet pressed against his face, their patterns memorized still, the familiar smell of leather, metal, and old books drifting into his consciousness. Oh, he knew he was in the Hunter’s Dream. He could feel it in his bones.

He tried to keep it together, he really did. This was just a dream, he told himself, the kind that normal people safe in their beds would have (a lie, he hadn’t dreamed since he felt his head leave his shoulders beneath the tree he knew towered overhead behind the building). But as he stood in a workshop he’d prayed to never see again, no longer aflame but missing the wheelchair and its occupant (he knew exactly where he would find them), the growing panic and desperation in his chest proved to be too much. He staggered to the doors, braced himself against them, not trusting his knees to support him, and  _ screamed _ .

_ No. _ he wordlessly wailed.  _ Please. Not again. I can’t do this again. Have I not suffered enough? Please. Please. Please. _

Whatever might have been listening offered up no reply.

He screamed, his face burning as tears began to leak from his eyes. He screamed until his throat was raw and all he could manage was choked sobbing as he slumped against the door, the rage leaving his body in one fell swoop, leaving behind the aching sense of despair and resignation. He closed his eyes, tried to breathe. His gasps were unsteady, painful, a familiar ache in his lungs flaring up (he half expected to cough, see red stain his palm, but nothing came).

Shakily, he lifted his hand and pushed against the door. Was its wood always this rough? Perhaps it was, his hands were bare this time, no leather present to protect them. It certainly was as heavy as he remembered. 

He stumbled out of the workshop, nearly missing the first step, quickly grabbing the ledge to right himself. Gods, he must look like a mess, all grief and tears and madness. He shook his head, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to concentrate and dry his tears. 

“Hunter? Are you alright?” a voice, rough but kind, concerned, made him raise his head. He blinked down at the three figures looking up at him from below, trying to identify the speaker.

There. On the left, across from the Doll. (His heart breathed a sigh of relief at the sight at her. She was still here, at least.) Corvo Attano's face was creased with worry as he met the hunter's gaze, seemingly ignorant of the energy crackling around his left hand, how his strange mark glowed brightly with it, how the black-eyed boy's limbs were so deeply entangled, how the mere air shone,  _ swarmed _ -

No, no, no. Of course he couldn't see it. The hunter pressed down his mind, trying to force the knowledge and madness bubbling up back into the dark corner he kept it hidden, forcing himself to smile. He doubted it was very convincing, as Corvo’s brow furrowed even more.

“I’ll be fine, Mr. Attano.” his voice rasped, like old paper complaining about being moved for the first time in years. “It’s just-”

“It’s just that he’s afraid that it’s all going to repeat, that he’ll have to watch everyone die or go mad, that he’s going to feel his life slip away again and again and again, dying over and over with no reprieve.” The black-eyed boy (man? God? All of these things? None of them?) dissipated and reappeared over the hunter’s shoulder. The taste of the ocean and the mourning of whalesong filled his senses, and for a brief moment, he could feel the wet, rocky beach, the Great One’s corpse, its Orphan, crying, a bottomless curse, a bottomless sea-

He bit his tongue until he felt warm red wash over it, the jolt of pain bringing him back to his senses.

“Which death hurt most, Good Hunter?” the being’s voice felt mocking in his ear. “Was it the fall from the roof you so willingly walked off of? The bullet you sent through your brain? Or was it the first one, the one where you were so afraid that you were going to die right there in the clinic, before you even had the chance to experience your newfound health?” He vanished again, reappearing down the path from Corvo and the Doll. “Come find me. You know where to look.” He dissolved once more, the strange miasma folding in on itself before disappearing, Corvo’s mark dimming once more. The air still had a strange energy about it, not the mist he associated with the Dream, something else, something foreign (although, the rocks and whales also clued him in to the alien nature of his surroundings), but yet, the Dream was here too, rudely interrupting the fabric of reality. Feeling some part of his mind starting to speculate, he quickly kicked it back into submission, knowing that wondering would only make it worse.

He made the rest of his way down the Workshop’s steps, stopping when he reached the bottom to take a few more shaky breaths. Corvo’s face was still creased with worry, something else too. Pity, perhaps?

“Greetings, Good Hunter.” The Doll spoke, her voice as soft as he remembered. 

“Hello, Doll. It’s good to see you again.” He bowed at her, she bowed back. Just like old times. (He almost laughed at the thought. It had only been months since the Hunt. Old times indeed.) “Is Gehrman still waiting beneath the tree?” A slow nod in response.

“The Outsider awaits as well. They both wish to speak to you.” So that was he was called. The Outsider. Here, but not; a conduit between worlds. It was a fitting name.

“Thank you. I missed you.” His voice came out softer than intended, a low murmur of absent thought. The Doll gave him that soft, practiced smile of hers.

“I am happy to see you too, Good Hunter. It has been a long time. Is there anything else you require of me?” She tilted her head to the side. The hunter shook his in return.

“No, no.” He looked at the path he knew led to the field, the tree, Gehrman, the Outsider, and hopefully an explanation “Thank you. Good-bye Doll.” She bowed in parting.

“Farewell, Good Hunter.”

He turned back towards Corvo, whose brow had not relaxed in the slightest. The hunter gave him another shaky smile, one that was about as steady as the hunter's legs.

“I'll be alright, Mr. Attano. I'll live. Now come. I'd hate to keep the old man waiting.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The field unsettled him. 

Corvo couldn't give a good reason  _ why _ ; it was by all accounts rather peaceful, with its tall, swaying grass, numerous white flowers, and towering tree, but there was something about the place that rubbed him the wrong way, made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He could tell the hunter didn't like it either, the man's standard stride falling into a wary stalk more befitting of his title as he led the way. 

It was quiet as they made their way up the gentle slope towards the tree and seated figure at its base. Corvo figured that this was where the Outsider wanted to meet, and that this man in the wheelchair was the Gehrman the Doll had mentioned. 

He knew he figured right when, with a ripple of darkness, the Outsider once again materialised before them, arms crossed, dark eyes drifting between Corvo and the hunter. Corvo waited for him to start talking, as he usually did, but it was the hunter that spoke first, causing Corvo to look over in surprise.

“Why am I here?” his voice was shaky with a quiet rage that unsettled Corvo more than the field with its flowers. The man was tense, muscles tight under the red vest and white shirt, fists clenched so hard Corvo thought his nails would slice through the palm, his gaze dead set on Gehrman. “You promised I would forget. You said I would I forget the Dream and the Hunt, all of it.”

Gehrman looked up at the hunter, the old eyes under the brim of an equally old hat filled with remorse, but for what, Corvo didn't know. It seemed that everyone around him, but not him, had some semblance of what was going on. He dreamed, of course, usually not the pleasant kind, but there was a certain weight to the way the hunter had said the word, the same sort of weight he said with “hunt” and his title, something that implied much more than what the word's definition would suggest. 

“You were, you were. But I should've known better than to recruit a scholar, especially one so curious.” Gehrman's voice crackled like the pages of some ancient tone. He sounded so old, so regretful  and so  _ tired _ . “Searching for the truth of the cosmos and the Hunt. You laid so many secrets bare, and kept so many others to yourself.” He chuckled, a sound more akin coughing than to laughter. “So many hunters have passed through the Dream, but none had quite the insight you did. So, to have you kneel so willingly, so ready to simply wake before finding everything you could of the Dream… it was not an expected outcome.”

“It wasn't supposed to happen.” The Outsider finally spoke, his tone borderline judgemental, if he didn't sound so intrigued. “To go so far, only to give up? I didn't even know of it until you crossed over, yet I am still surprised.”

Well, it was nice to know the Outsider didn't know something, Corvo briefly thought.

The hunter stared at the ground, looking lost and defeated. “I was so tired.” The mumbled defense was soft, more himself than the deity before him.

“Why you did it doesn't matter anymore. The fact that you did, and what you did after has some troubling ramifications for Corvo's world.” The Outsider gestured in Corvo's direction, then tilted his head. 

“How fascinating, how your histories run so parallel, only intersect when they never should have. After all, my dear Corvo,--” the dark gaze landed on him, studying him like an interesting bug “--it has almost been a year since your dear Empress died in your arms, dooming you for a world of hurt inside cold, wet concrete.” Corvo flinched. It had been almost a year since Jessamine died, but the wounds of grief and Coldridge still smarted like they were formed yesterday. “And you, Good Hunter,--” the gaze shifted “--it, too, has almost been a year since red bloomed from your lungs into your kerchief, and you  _ knew _ you were dying, and so you ran, leaving a note to your scholarly brothers, promising a return that would never come.” He leaned back, gesturing at the both of them. “Six months later, Corvo breaks free of his prison walls and I pull him into the Void, and the Hunter finds his miracle cure and is pulled into the Hunt and the Dream. And then Corvo changed history, and the Hunter woke up, memory shattered.”

“Something didn't work when I severed you from the Dream.” Corvo was grateful for Gehrman's interruption, even if he didn't know the man. He hated how frankly the Outsider was baring the worst time of his life, and probably the hunter's as well, for all of them to hear. “Perhaps it was all of that insight, and your mind clung to that knowledge, unwilling to give it up, letting the rest of it be cut away. I cannot say for sure. When I realized what had gone wrong…” he let out a shuddering sigh. “...it was too late, and you were gone.”

“And so you ran, like you have always done.” The Outsider spoke, arms crossed, the tone in his voice matter-of-fact. “You ran and ran, until you ran out of room. So you leapt, crossing into the Void and back out into Dunwall. Normally, this wouldn't be possible, but the cosmic energy that clung to you allowed you to rip through the fabric of reality.” He leaned forward towards the hunter, who shrunk back, a look of guilt and uncertainty on his face. “Surely you didn't think slaying so many Great Ones would not have its consequences?”

That was a statement that caught Corvo off guard. He remembered the hunter's brief description of the Great Ones, of powerful beings akin to gods, worshipped by some, whose language was incomprehensible. The hunter had killed not just one, but _ multiple _ ones? He glanced over at the man, part of him relieved to find him unarmed. He knew the hunter was dangerous, yes, but this put the man on a whole new level.

Although, for someone who had supposedly killed multiple gods, the hunter looked particularly meek at the moment, upset but understanding of the Outsider's words.

“I made a hole.” His words were soft, horrified. The Outsider nodded.

“And you dragged some of your reality through that hole, that rip, and it will continue to leak, the decay of Yharnam seeping into the Void and into Dunwall, until you either stitch reality back up, or you let it bleed until both worlds, and the Void, are dead.”

“So you want us to fix it.” Corvo finally said. He had his suspicions; the Outsider was never this forthcoming about information. 

“As fascinating as it would be to watch this play out, my dear Corvo, I can't allow the Void to fall yet.” He looked at Corvo, his mouth twitching up into a bemused smile. “Luckily for you, when the Hunter passed through, I was able to concentrate the bleeding into physical forms that should be familiar to the both of you. Runes, like the ones you seek, Corvo, but emblazoned with the carvings of the runesmith that you are so familiar with, Good Hunter. They're scattered to where I cannot reach, but with men of your talents, I'm sure you'll manage.” The smile grew into something more pleased, showing more teeth than natural. “I'll even give you a starting point. Why don't you go ask that mutual friend of ours before he leaves Dunwall for good?” 

With that, he vanished, and Corvo's vision went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the exposition/the hunter has a really bad time chapter!
> 
> i'm going to give a quick tldr here since the outsider/ gehrman (mostly the outsider though) talk a lot in this and i don't want things to be too confusing?  
> basically, the hunter essentially came as close as you can to 100% bloodborne in 1 playthrough, including the old hunter's dlc and consuming the three thirds of an umbilical cord, accumulating a ginormous amount of insight by the end of it, but instead of going on to fight gehrman and the moon presence as would be expected, he was severed from the dream like you would with the yharnam sunrise ending. however, the huge amount of insight he had, along with the umbilical cords and killing so many great ones, fucked with the memory wipe that's supposed to happen, so instead of forgetting the hunt and all that, he lost most of his memory of what happened before the hunt, including his name. in the ensuing panic of "oh god who am i and why do i know so much about the universe", he accidentally caused a small rip between realities, causing him to end up in dunwall with corvo, so now they've got to fix that up before the hole becomes bigger and bad things happen.
> 
> hope yall aren't big fans of gehrman bc he's not gonna show up much or possibly ever again bc i don't like him. sorry.
> 
> also guess who's coming up soon. i'll bet you can, i made it pretty obvious but still. i'm excited about it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Corvo and the hunter discuss their next steps, and Daud gets a headache, in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief descriptions of vomiting and drug use (kinda. It's super duper standard Bloodborne stuff).

Corvo paced across the floor of his bedroom, thoughts whirring like an overworked engine while the hunter sat nervously on the small couch against the wall, fidgeting and looking vaguely guilty. The light of the early dawn was starting to stream through the window; Corvo suspected that he and the hunter were the only ones awake in the Tower at the moment.

“Who was he talking about?” The hunter's quiet question caused Corvo to stop. It was the first thing either of them had said to each other since the hunter had knocked on Corvo's bedroom door, asking if they could talk. They had not done any talking since.

Corvo sighed. The “who” in question was the main thing troubling his thoughts. He didn't think he'd ever have to deal with the man again, especially not so soon.

“Daud.” The hunter looked at him blankly.

“Who?” Corvo made his way to the couch, sitting arms length away from the hunter.

“He is -- was -- an assassin, the best of best. They called him the Knife of Dunwall. He--” he looked down, biting his lip. It was a fact that he still struggled to say. “--he killed Jessamine, the former Empress, Emily's mother.” He paused, tapping the mark emblazoned in black on the back of his left hand. “He's marked by the Outsider as well, has a whole band of assassins that he shares his powers with.”

The hunter was silent for a moment, carefully considering Corvo's mark and his words.

“So that's how you got there, on the roof, the first time we met face to face.” Corvo nodded.

“I never did figure out how you were able to sense me.” The hunter snorted, a cynical sneer crossing his face.

“You learn to be keenly aware of your surroundings during the Hunt. If there's something moving, you can be sure it's a beast. If not, well. It never hurts to be careful.” He looked back at Corvo, his expression relaxing to something kinder. “I suppose it's something you could chalk up to nerves left over from old habits. I’m just glad you turned out to be something much friendlier than a beast.”

There was another long stretch of silence, a tad less tense this time, before the hunter spoke again.

“Do you know how to find this Daud?”

Corvo nodded.

He’d kept an eye on Daud after the crown had been restored, using his new resources as the Royal Spymaster to make sure that the man kept his promise. And seemingly, he had. Daud’s movements had been purposely obvious, most likely to make it clear to Corvo what he was doing, and everything showed that he was planning to leave Dunwall: a cessation of all assassinations committed by the Whalers, large stores of coin suddenly withdrawn under false names, and several tickets purchased for a ship that would be leaving for Karnaca soon.

Corvo was so relieved when he first heard that news. Daud, gone from Dunwall and Gristol, never to be seen again. Corvo had heard rumors that he was going to buy a vineyard, but he wasn’t quite sure that he believed it. He only hoped it was true. But all that mattered was that Corvo would never see Daud again. Ever. But it seemed that the world wouldn't even let Corvo have that small reprieve.

“Mr. Attano…?” the gentle touch of the hunter’s hand on his shoulder jolted him out of his thoughts. The man quickly retreated his arm, a look of concern evident on his face. “My apologies. I understand that this Daud may not bring forth the most positive of memories but please. We need to find him.”

Corvo swallowed, then nodded again. “I know where to find him. But it won’t be easy, we’ll have to penetrate his Whaler's defenses, we’ll need to get his attention somehow and convince him to believe us, and--” Corvo paused, biting the inside of his cheek. It pained him to admit it, but his world, his city, and his Emily were at stake. He needed to be honest with the hunter if it was relevant to their success. “--and I don’t think I’ll be able to keep it together if I have to face him again.” He hated how quiet his voice was, how fragile he sounded. He _hated_ that despite several months after sparing the man and leaving him on the ground bleeding, Daud still came back to haunt Corvo, even if their dealings with each other were supposed to be over.

The hunter didn’t say anything, simply studying Corvo with a furrowed, worried brow before looking back down to carefully consider the floor, deep in thought. Corvo could practically hear the gears turning in his head like some sort of ancient clock, groaning to life in a strange set of weights and teeth. After several minutes of contemplative silence, the hunter suddenly sat up and turned to Corvo, eyes bright, a confident smile beginning to form on his face.

“I think I have a plan.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today was simply not Duad’s day, it seemed.

For starters, he'd woken up with a rather nasty headache after another nightmare, then he'd forgotten his coffee until now, forcing him to drink it cold, and by the sound of the Whalers currently arguing outside his office door, his day was only going contribute to his headache even more.

“I'm not going to tell him something so damn stupid, he'll think I'm crazy!” one of them harshly whispered. Daud frowned at that. Tell him what? Did something happen on one of the patrols?

“Well, somebody's gotta tell him!”

“Do _you_ want to?”

“...no. But somebody does need to tell him.”

“There's only two of us, Chester, it's either you or me.”

“Why don't _both_ of you tell me what happened?” Daud's voice was thoroughly unamused as he opened the door to glare at the two novice whalers (Chester and Thorpe, he quickly realized). The two of them stiffened in surprise, having not noticed their leader approach through the glass paneling.

“S-sir!” the taller of the two, Thorpe, exclaimed. Daud could practically feel his eyes widening under his mask. “It's, uh, it's just that someone has been spotted wandering near the edge of the district, near the Wrenhaven, heading in this general direction.”

Daud glowered.“That's it?” There was no way that could be the full story. Sure, everyone was on their toes after Corvo's escape, but this wasn't Corvo they were talking about, clearly, and Corvo had spared him after all, even if he wasn't sure why.

“Well, they're dressed very strangely…” Chester nodded in agreement with Thorpe's statement.

“I caught a glimpse of them. They're wearing this weird, beaked mask and a long cloak made of black feathers. Crow, probably. Didn't seem to be armed, but, uh…” He glanced nervously at Thorpe. “They were… how do I put this…”

“Translucent? Partially invisible?” Thorpe offered.

Daud felt his headache get worse.

“ _What?”_ Chester and Thorpe flinched.

“There may be a ghost coming for you?” Thorpe sounded apologetic. “We're not sure, sir. Thomas is currently trailing them, he said he'd come to you if the situation developed.” If Daud's brow could furrow anymore, it would. He rubbed his temples.

“Alright. Fine. You both are dismissed.”

The two whalers quickly transversed away as Daud turned back into his office, his headache throbbing at the back of skull intensely. He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. Still cold and not particularly pleasant.

Well, all he could do at the moment, he supposed, was wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Thomas showed up, he wasn’t particularly surprised.

“Sir, we haven’t been able to stop the intruder. They’ve made it past the rail station and are headed in this direction. Sleep darts seem to have no effect and any attempts to take them head on were met with disengagement followed by skillful evasion when the men attempted to look for them; we’re running out of options. What do you want us to do?” Daud looked grimly at the papers on his desk, contemplating.

Whatever was coming, it was coming for him, that was clear enough. He was glad that whatever it was, a ghost or some other creature touched by the Void, it had left his men alone. They had no part in this. They shouldn’t pay for his sins.

“Let them come.” He kept his voice low, accepting. Thomas paused uncertainly, then nodded before transversing away.

Daud sighed. He figured something like this would happen. He wasn’t expecting it with such a... _supernatural_ flair, but he knew he couldn’t outrun the ghosts from his past. He may have been spared by Corvo, but that sparing was tenuous at best, and that hardly meant the rest of the world had forgotten what he’d done. The idea of someone with so much blood on their hands simply retiring peacefully was laughable.

He would meet this ghost, fight it, and die by it, if that’s what fate had in store for him.

Strange. He’d never put much credit in fate before.

He just hoped his men would be able to lead peaceful, happy lives after he was gone.

The heavy thudding of boots made him look up.

They were exactly like their description: A beaked mask under a hood, a dark cloak of feathers, and a body he could see through. He saw a glimpse of grey and red under the cloak as the figure shifted while it paused in the doorway to glance in his direction.

Daud reached for his sword. “So, ghost. You’ve come to kill me. I--”

He was rudely interrupted as the ghost quickly stumbled past him, gloved hands grasping at the hood to tug it off and to undo the mask as they made a beeline towards Daud’s office window. The mask thudded to the floor, discarded and very much real, as the ghost, who was looking more solid by the second, leaned out the window and vomited onto the flooded sidewalk below.

Daud stared at the unexpected turn of events that was currently retching over the edge of his windowsill. He was expecting some inhuman thing from the Void, a manifestation of his sins come to take revenge. He was pretty sure that inhuman manifestations were not supposed to throw up.

The figure, who, now that the mask was gone and the hood pulled back, appeared to be just a man, heaved a couple more times, shoulders shaking from the effort. Slowly, he pulled himself upwards, turning to face Daud, one hand against the wall for support, and offered a weak smile. He was younger than Duad, but the scars under his eye and on his chin belied a difficult past and fights barely escaped.

Not that it looked like the man was up for fighting anytime soon. His eyes had an unhealthy, dull, glassy sheen to them, and while his gaze was set on Daud, it drifted, going from looking at Daud to through Daud blankly, before the man would blink and shift his gaze back.

"Are you Daud, the assassin?" His voice had a foreign tone that Daud couldn't place.

"Not anymore. I don't kill for coin now."

"You are Daud, though?"

"...Yes."

The man breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank the gods, I don't think I would have been able to keep up that ghost routine much longer--" he glanced out the window towards the ground with a grimace. "-- especially considering the last of my blue elixir is, shall we say, unusable." He went silent, the look in his eyes becoming blank and hazy.

Daud sighed. It seemed like his new guest wasn’t all there, so to speak. His already long day now seemed to stretch into infinity.

“Why are you here then, if not to kill me or ask me to kill someone else?” The mysterious man jolted out of his daze.

“Yes! My apologies. Shall we sit down for this? I’m feeling somewhat unsteady, and there’s much to discuss.” He took a haltering step towards Daud’s desk, the movement loosening several somethings from underneath the feathered cloak that landed on the floor with a clatter. Daud easily recognized the shape of an empty sleep dart as it rolled to a stop at his feet, the greenish tinge of sleep poison still visible amongst the edges.

Well, Thomas did say they didn’t seem to have an effect. Although, Daud’s concerns had quickly turned from fighting to wondering if the man needed medical attention. Most people couldn’t stay conscious with one dose of sleep poison let alone -- he paused, counting the darts that now littered the floor-- seven. The man blinked sluggishly at the darts, heavily propping himself up with an arm on Daud’s desk in a desperate attempt to stay conscious and upright.

“Well.” he said “I suppose that explains why the elixir’s sedative effect seemed stronger than normal. Along with--” he gestured weakly out the window “--that. Once again, my apologies, that was rather rude of me. However, we do need to talk. It’s a matter of utmost importance.”

Daud’s brow furrowed. It seemed that this stranger had taken enough sedatives to knock out a whale, but was still was lucid and still wanted to talk to him, badly. He felt like the poor guy probably had earned a conversation, at the very least.

“I think you should sit down.” The man nodded in absent agreement, staggering over before collapsing onto some boxes that Daud was pretty sure held something that was to be shipped to Karnaca, but served as a seat well enough for the moment. Daud took to leaning against his desk, observing the stranger from a higher angle than before. Under normal circumstances, he would have been putting on an intimidating aura, especially since he had the high ground, but considering that the man in front of him didn’t seem particularly intimidated by Daud and also looked like he was about to pass out at any moment, Daud figured a business-like air would be more appropriate.

“Do you want coffee? Might wake you up a little.” The man shook his head, waving off Daud’s offer.

“No, thank you. I have some blood that I brought for this sort of thing.”

Daud stared in confusion, cold cup of coffee in hand.

What? Blood?

He wasn’t sure if he heard that right, but after the man pulled out of vial of dark red liquid from somewhere in the gray coat he wore underneath the feathers, Daud’s ears were confirmed correct. The familiar, metallic smell only reached him for a brief moment after the man uncorked the vial, before he quickly downed it like a shot of whiskey.

Daud suppressed a gag at the vampiric action, but he had to admit, at least the results were immediate. The man jolted upright, shaking his head rapidly as if to shake off his former drowsiness. He looked Daud dead on, his gray eyes sharp with an alert, ready shine. A shiver went down Daud’s spine, however. He was good at reading people, and something hungry, dangerous lurked below that shine, disappearing before Daud could read further. It wasn’t malice directed at Daud, he could tell that much, but there was an inhuman feeling to it that Daud recognized and didn’t like one bit.

It was a look he’d often found staring back at himself in the mirror all too often after a particularly bloody kill.

“There, much better.” The man shifted, straightening his shoulders. “Now, I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself. I am the Good Hunter of Yharnam. And you, Daud, have information I need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i bothered to title chapters, an alternate title for this one could be "Daud's No Good, Very Bad Day"
> 
> for reference to the blue elixir and why i decided the sleep darts don't have an effect on the hunter, here's the description of blue elixir's in bloodborne  
> "Dubious liquid medicine used in strange experiments conducted by high ministers of the Healing Church. A type of anesthetic that numbs the brain.  
> Hunters, able to retain consciousness by force of will, make use of secondary effect of the medicine, which dilutes their presence while standing still."  
> so since hunters are able to down these and the sedatives no problem, i figured that while sleep darts might make the good hunter feel woozy, it wouldn't knock him out. but i can't imagine it would be particularly fun for the body! and i doubt the hunter has drunken so many blue elixirs in such a short span before. poor guy.
> 
> this was really fun to write! also he's here. the famous assassin. My Dad. (jk corvo and daud are both my dad)  
> i love daud a lot but i haven't really written him before? hopefully his characterization sits well with yall. I know some of you guys were looking foward to daud and corvo meeting again and not to worry! they will! eventually. just not yet. we've got one more character we need to encounter before we can bring the whole squad together  
> the hunters dialouge about the hunt is taken from gascoine's removed dialogue. also there's a reference to the title of the fic in there! a double whammie!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Daud and the hunter talk business, and Corvo and the hunter prepare.

“I’m not going to just give you information for free.” Daud eyed the hunter from where he stood. He had no clue what to make of the man’s title and he had no idea where Yharnam even _might_ be, but business was business, and as long as killing wasn’t involved, he was open to it.

“No, I wouldn’t expect you to. Payment will be given at a dead drop of your choice after the information has been given."

"Why not now?"

"Lord--" the hunter stopped himself, biting back the name. "--my colleague wants to ensure that the information is factual. Rest assured, once we verify it, you will receive your payment."

Daud frowned. Nobility were involved? That was rarely a good sign. But the fact that they would send someone so…unusual as their messenger instead of meeting him themselves was strange, to say the least. And most nobility wanted him to do the job, not just provide a prerequisite.

Something about this situation was fishy.

"Who the hell are you working with?" Daud's growl came out harsher than he intended, but he made no attempt to reel it back. The hunter blinked owlishly in surprise at him, before furrowing his brow in consideration, seemingly unperturbed at Duad’s ferocity.

“I’m not sure he’d be particularly pleased if I told you. I'm not sure _you'd_ be particularly pleased if I told you."

"Tell me, or you're not getting the information you so desperately want." Daud practically snarled, irritated at the man's reluctance to simply give him a name.

The hunter simply sighed in response. "So be it. I'm working with the Lord Protector, Corvo Attano."

Daud stared blankly.

Oh.

Of course Attano would be involved in this. _Of course._ He silently cursed himself for his stubbornness. He should have let the hunter keep that secret. It would have made things easier for everyone.

He stood there in shocked silence for a moment. His headache throbbed angrily, made worse by the name the hunter just dropped on him. A sigh eventually forced itself out of his chest. Now that the Royal Protector was a part of the equation, there was little that Daud could do to object to the request. “Fine. What do you want?”

The hunter studied him for a moment, unresponsive at first, a sympathetic curiosity in his eyes. Daud tried to hold the gaze, but looked away after a couple moments. Damn, he hated how unsettling this guy was. Who the hell was Corvo allying himself with?

“We’re looking for the emergence of any unusual artifacts starting about…. 5 days ago?” the hunter finally said, before glancing away distractedly. “Was it 5 days?” he mumbled to himself, then looked back at Daud with an assured nod. “Yes, yes, 5 days.”

Daud furrowed his brow. “As in heretical artifacts?”

“Yes, technically. But these would stand out even amongst those.” Daud’s brow furrowed even further, his fingers beginning to tap thoughtfully against his folded arms. Neither he nor his men had found anything quite matching the hunter’s description in the last 5 days. Bonecharms and runes, sure, but they were of the fairly standard sort. Although, there was one place that came to mind that _might_ hold something…

“Good Hunter.” the man looked up from the floor when Daud said his title, eyes expectant. “You know about the Overseers, right?”

The hunter shook his head. “Not much. I know they are the main standing religious organization here, but other than that, my knowledge is lacking.”

Daud frowned. That was… strange, but he waved the thought aside. “Ask Attano to explain them to you; he has experience with them. Anyways, while I don’t have what you’re looking for, they might.” He glanced around at his piles of papers before spotting the map of Dunwall he wanted. Setting his coffee down, he spread it out on the table and gestured for the hunter to come over. As the man leaned over to look at the map, Daud pointed at the area labeled “Slaughterhouse Row.” “The Overseers took control of an abandoned warehouse there a while back, for storage or as a more discreet area to operate at, probably. A couple days ago, however, they suddenly became very active in there. Can’t say for sure if it’s because of whatever you’re looking for, but that would be my best guess.”

The hunter nodded slowly. “It sounds as a good a place to start as any. What warehouse is it?”

“It’s labeled number 32. You should be able to tell when you’ve found it from the fact that there’s no company name plastered all over it and that there’s Overseers everywhere.” Daud snatched up a red pencil from the edge of the desk and circled an area in the district. “It should be around here somewhere.” He rolled up the map, handing to the hunter, who took it after a moment’s hesitation. “That’s all I can give you for now.”

“That’s more than enough. Thank you, Daud.” The hunter began to make his way towards the door before stopping, turning back around and trotting back to where he dropped his mask, picking it up. He gave Daud a polite smile. "If you have any more information, or you've decided where you want to pick up your payment, send a letter to the Lord Protector." The smile was replaced by a look of mild confusion. "Unless you have another means of communication I don't know about? I'm just guessing that letters are standard here, but Dunwall is very different from Yharnam."

Daud just raised his eyebrows and slowly shook his head in response. The hunter looked relieved at that.

"Alright then. Perhaps I'll see you later, perhaps not. Either way, I bid you farewell." The man turned on his heel and left the way he came.

As soon as he was out of sight, Daud summoned Thomas with a flick of his hand. The man drew his sword as soon as he appeared, clearly expecting to have to fight, but once he saw that he and Daud were the only ones present in the room, he put it away, just a little bit embarassed by his hastiness.

“Sir?” he said, clearly confused and somewhat amazed by the fact that Duad had not been killed by a ghost. “What happened?” Daud shrugged.

“He wanted to talk business. Follow him and make sure he makes it out of here in one piece.” Thomas nodded, still clearly confused, but obeyed and vanished.

Daud sighed and leaned back on his desk, swiping up the mug he left there and taking a sip of the by-now disgustingly frigid coffee.

What a weird day. Hopefully whatever issue had caused Corvo and this hunter character to come to him would sort itself out and Daud could neatly stay out of the Lord Protector's business and sight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun sunk well below the horizon by the time the hunter finally made his way back to Dunwall Tower. Corvo looked up from the reports he had been glancing over when the man entered his office, immediately scrunched his nose up in disgust.

"Good Hunter, _please_ tell me you didn't march through Dunwall Tower smelling like that." The man stank of sewage, vomit, and several other things Corvo was pretty sure he didn't want to know the origins of.

The hunter glanced down at his now ratty-looking cloak, smoothing out a loose, damp feather.

"I've smelled worse. Once I fought a giant, bloated pig in the sewers below Yharnam. The beast had the worst breath I've ever smelled and it coughed it up right on me. I thought I would go mad from it, if the stench didn't kill me first."

"Yes, but that doesn't make your trail any less of a nightmare for the maids to clean up. Go wash or something, then we'll discuss the information you received while you eat."

The hunter nodded. "I suppose that's a fair proposal."

Soon enough, the two of them sat at a small table in Corvo's office, the hunter now considerably less smelly and looking more like a human being instead of a rather large crow that had been trampled underfoot. Corvo sat patiently as the hunter quietly nibbled on a bread roll, waiting for the man to finish his meagre dinner. He eventually placed the roll half eaten back on the plate, frowning.

"Still feeling a bit nauseous from earlier, I suppose." The hunter muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. Corvo's brow furrowed at that.

"I thought the meeting went smoothly?"

The hunter nodded. "It did, it did, not to worry. It was more of the journey there that was the issue. Nothing drastic however, nothing I couldn't handle." Corvo relaxed slightly. He had to admit, he was a little worried when he dropped the hunter off in the Flooded District to go find Daud. While he didn't doubt that the man was capable, he was still a stranger in a strange land, and he had been concerningly vague about his plan to reach the assassin, only reassuring Corvo that he had one. But, it seemed that Corvo needn't have worried, considering that the hunter was sitting here in one piece.

"What did he say?"

"He thinks what we're looking for is located in a warehouse currently controlled by the Overseers." The hunter pulled out a piece of paper, unrolling it to reveal a map of Dunwall. An area of Slaughterhouse Row had been marked in red. "He said it's number 32, but other than that, he didn't have too much information. I told him to send a letter if he found anything else out."

Corvo nodded. "This is enough to work with for now. We should probably head there tonight."

"I concur. The longer the rip stays open, the more of Yharnam's rot leaks into this city; delaying will only makes things worse." The hunter stood, quickly followed by Corvo. "I'll go gather what I need from my room."

"I'll do the same. We'll meet in the hallway before we head off." The hunter gave a sharp nod in affirmation before exiting the room, snatching up the half-eaten bread roll as he left.

Corvo doubted that he needed as long as the hunter to prepare, considering that at the very least, he needed his sword and mask, which he kept close at hand. One trip to his bedroom and a pocketful of elixirs, remedies, and sleep darts later, Corvo was fully prepared to leave.

The hunter, meanwhile, was still seemingly changing into more appropriate attire for the journey.

Yes, Corvo had definitely needed less time to prepare.

As he made his 2nd trip of pacing up and down the hallway he paused mid step in front of the door to Emily's room. She had gone to bed before the hunter had returned, and Corvo could only assume that she was sound asleep at this point. The Royal Protector part of him told that it would be rude to enter and possibly wake her, but the fatherly side pushed back, urging him to go inside to give his daughter one last "goodnight" before he headed off into the city.

After a brief but futile struggle, the fatherly side of him eventually emerged victorious. Slowly, as quietly as possible, Corvo opened the door and stepped inside.

In the massive bed in the center of the room, he could see the rising and falling of her sleeping form, dwarfed by the large comforter he had swaddled her in, with no small amount of playful complaining on her part, several hours earlier. The book he had been reading to her lay discarded next to an unlit candle, its title unreadable in the dim moonlight washed the room in a soft, silver glow.

Emily's face was pressed into her pillow, drooling slightly, but soundly and peacefully asleep. Corvo felt his heart ache at the sight. Even now, even so young, she looked so much like her mother. He remembered how Jessamine would drool too in her sleep, just occasionally, just as often as Corvo did. He remembered how he would wake up, bleary-eyed and mildly confused, to Jessamine's amused giggling, how she would take the edge of the bed sheet and wipe the edges his mouth before gently planting a kiss there.

He missed her so much.

Carefully, Corvo reached over and brushed away a lock of dark hair that had fallen into Emily's face, distantly feeling that his fingers were too rough, too clumsy, inadequate for the delicate job. He leaned over and gently kissed her brow. She mumbled in her sleep and turned over at the prickliness of his chin, burrowing deeper into her blanket. He held back a chuckle, smiling fondly at the sight.

Jessamine may be gone, but Emily was still here. Corvo would always do anything and everything for her, no matter what.

He wasn't going to fail her again.

The hunter was waiting in the hallway when Corvo finally emerged from Emily's room. It took a moment for Corvo to even recognize the man, who had changed into a much more menacing version of the coat and tricorn ensemble Corvo had first met him in. He seemed more of a shadow than a person, dark leather blending together, his face obscured by cloth pulled tightly over it, the only evidence of humanity remaining in the eyes the peeked out under the brim of the hat. He gripped his cane tightly in his right hand, the gun in his left.

"Are you ready, Mr. Attano?" The gray eyes were firm as the hunter asked. Corvo reached into his coat, pulling out the familiar mask. It clicked satisfyingly into place.

"Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> important plot talks with daud, corvo, and the hunter: i sleep  
> corvo having a Soft Dad(tm) moment with emily that has nothing to do with the plot: real shit
> 
> i've been losing my mind at some of the comments ive been getting, yall are too nice to me!! i'm sorry i don't respond but like. know that i read them over and over again and hold them close to my heart. they really helped me on this chapter, y'know? so thank you! it's exam season right now so my ass is getting kicked but. soon. summer will be here. and maybe i'll update more often, who knows.
> 
> also i have a small collection of doodles and memes i've made for this fic so if anyone wants to see those let me know and i'll post a link in the next update for what is currently a gradually growing collection
> 
> shout out to my friend nox who keeps proofreading these chapters for me (god knows i dont) and lets me bounce ideas off of them occasionally. i owe u my life dude


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Corvo and the hunter find more proof of what was already suspect, and discover that dolls and deities are more linked than anyone had thought.

Night had covered Dunwall in a thick blanket of darkness, an setting ideal for the sort of work Corvo and the hunter were about to attempt. With the light of the moon obscured by clouds, the chances of either of them being spotted were slim.

Corvo cringed on the rooftop as he heard the man step loudly on some glass below.

By the way things were going, the Overseers were going to hear the hunter coming before they saw either of them. Not that the hunter was particularly noisy or anything; he was certainly more quiet than the majority of the City Watch.  It’s just that it was painfully obvious to Corvo that the man had little to no experience in the art of stealth. Corvo wondered how he'd managed to pass through Daud's defenses.

The two of them had split up after it turned out that although the hunter was skilled in many things, climbing was not one of them. That, and he couldn't blink through space like Corvo could.

"If I want to get someplace higher, I'll have to find a ladder." he said with a shrug. "Yharnam was covered in them. Other than that, I'm going to have to take to the streets. Can you keep watch from above?"

Corvo agreed to that.

Although, the thought occurred to him, it might have been easier if he'd just grabbed the hunter by the shoulder and blinked him up to the rooftop. He blinked back down to the hunter's side, intent on proposing this idea. As he landed, the man shot him a pointed look and held a gloved finger up to his lips, jerking his chin towards the entrance of the dilapidated building they stood near. The sound of shuffling boots and irritated grumbling quickly gave Corvo the answer to the hunter's warning.

Flicking on his dark vision, he quickly spotted an Overseer moving about the inside of the structure. Well, at least they knew they were headed in the right direction. The Overseer seemed to be searching for something, growling "Stupid thing… probably isn't even here…" as he kicked away a rat that scuttled too close to his shoe. Corvo gestured for the hunter to wait, creeping toward the entrance, leaning into the entryway as his dark vision faded.

The Overseer had his back to him.

Perfect.

He blinked right behind the man, quickly wrapping his arm around the Overseer's throat. He clawed at Corvo's arm, guttural choking noises coming from behind the mask, thrashing in attempt to free himself from Corvo's vice-like grip. But Corvo held firm, and soon the Overseer slumped over, unconscious. He carefully let the body drop to the floor with a dull thud.

"That's a useful trick." the hunter noted, poking his head into the room cautiously before fully stepping in. "Perhaps you might teach it to me one day?"

"Maybe." Corvo replied half-heartedly, his mind currently more occupied with wondering what the Overseer was looking for.

"...Mister Attano? Corvo!" Corvo jolted in surprise as the hunter all but yelled his name. He hadn't realized that the hunter had been trying to get his attention, he'd been so focused on trying to find what the Overseer had missed. He looked over at the man. His brows were knit together tightly, eyes radiating concern. "Are you alright? Your heart is beating very loudly and very quickly."

Corvo stared at him blankly. What in the Void was the hunter talking about? His heart was fine. Besides, how could the hunter hear his heart anyways? Yes, the man was observant, but Corvo sincerely doubted he could hear a heartbeat. Unless…

Corvo reached into his coat, pulling out The Heart. True to the hunter's word, it was beating loudly, rapidly. Corvo wondered how he'd missed it.

"There's a rune or a bone charm nearby; that's probably what that Overseer was looking for." He said, turning this way and that to try and discern the direction it was, eventually settling on down. "Help me find some stairs."

The hunter nodded. Corvo headed to farther back into the empty building, finding nothing but a few rats and some stairs that went up but were blocked by rubble. Either way, not what he was looking for.

"Mister Attano! I found it!" the hunter's call dragged him back into the room where they started. The ratty, stained carpet had been pushed aside, revealing a trap door embedded in the floorboards. The hunter crouched beside it, gripping the handle. At Corvo's nod, he gave it a forceful yank, pulling the door open.

Purple light spilled into the dim room, and Corvo groaned. Of course, it had to be a shrine. _Of course._

The hunter hopped onto the ladder after glancing at Corvo questioningly, and slid down with practiced ease, moving out of the way for Corvo, who opted to simply jump down, landing softly next to the hunter on the stone floor.

The room they were in wasn’t large by any means, perhaps about the size of the hunter’s quarters back at Dunwall Tower. A cursory glance revealed only 2 things of note: the shrine to the Outsider at the end of the room, as Corvo expected, and a rather odd, antiquated looking lamp hanging a short pole before it, unlit. The latter was the one that held the hunter’s attention.

He stared at it intently, disbelief evident in his eyes. After a couple moments of silence, he shook his head as if to clear it. "How strange. Although not impossible, I suppose."

"What do you mean?"

"The lamp." The hunter gestured in its direction. "It's one of the ones that connects with the Dream. It's not lit at the moment, obviously, but it should be usable once it is. I found similar ones scattered throughout Yharnam, but now that the Dream is within the Void, lamps might start appearing here in Dunwall."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Good, I hope. It means that if I die here on this plane of existence, I'll return to the Dream and be able to return to this point after death."

That was… difficult to believe, but the Outsider's words of dying over and over again echoed in the back of Corvo's  mind, and, he supposed, this explained it. “As useful as that may be, I’d prefer to keep you alive, Good Hunter.”

The hunter simply hummed in return, stepping forward, hand outstretched towards the lantern. At his touch, it began to glow, in a matter not unlike the whale oil lamps scattered around the Outsider’s shrine. Dark mist began to pool from the cobblestones around his feet, and withered, emaciated figures pulled themselves up from the pavement, facing the lamp as if in prayer. The hunter didn't seem to pay them any mind. His hand still rested on the lantern, almost absentmindedly, seemingly deep in thought, although the covered face made it difficult to tell.

The two of them stood there for a moment, quiet.

 _Too_ quiet. Corvo was struck with the realization  that the distinctive “song” that always accompanied runes was absent. He looked up to the end of the room in alarm, pulling out the Heart. It beat in his hand, tempo fast.

 _Something_ was here. But what?

He began to make his way down to the end of the room, squeezing past the hunter, whose attention had turned to the writing littering the walls. Corvo gave them a cursory glance, expecting to find the usual " _THE OUTSIDER WALKS AMONG US"_ , but was taken aback to find the rather alarming phrase of " _GRANT US EYES"_ scrawled repeatedly in its place.

"Something else from Yharnam, I take it?"

The hunter nodded, giving the walls one last look before turning to face Corvo. "Yes, but it just confirms what we already suspected. Yharnam's particular brand of madness is beginning to mix with Dunwall's. It's just-" he waved at the walls as he paused, audibly swallowing "-it's just that I hope the original author- well, orator -of these words isn't here, not yet at least." He sighed. "Nevermind that. You said there was something of use here?"

Corvo was somewhat relieved that the hunter couldn't see his skeptical look behind his mask at the subject change. "Yes, but not a rune or bone charm. I can't tell what it is."

The hunter let out a curious hum, stepping with Corvo towards the ramshackle shrine.

At its center lay what seemed to be, out of all things, a slug. It oozed slime that glowed a faint white, starkly contrasting against the shrine's deep purple cloth. It seemed perfectly content to sit there, and the lack of a slime trail made it difficult to discern how it got there in the first place.

"Oh!" Corvo turned at the hunter's soft exclamation of surprise. "An Augur of Ebrietas!" The man scooped it up, eyes sparkling, seemingly pleased at the find.

The pleased look fell away as darkness began to gather around the shrine. Corvo sighed as the figure he was expecting to appear materialized, not particularly looking forward to the oncoming monologue.

Wait, no. There was someone else.

Standing next to the Outsider, her pale hair and eyes starkly contrasting with the deity's, was the Doll.

“Hello, Corvo.” said the Outsider.

“Greetings, Good Hunter.” said the Doll at the same time.

They looked at each other, suppressed surprise etching through both their features for just a moment. In fact, Corvo swore that he saw confusion of all things flicker across the Outsider's face before it returned to its standard expression of neutral interest. The Doll in turn politely inclined her head towards him, before turning to Corvo and doing the same.

"Greetings Outsider, Lord Protector. How goes your journey?"

"Now, Doll, the journey has barely begun." The Outsider chided. "And besides, we both know perfectly well the many ways their journey may go." The Doll only tilted her head curiously in response as the Outsider shifted his attention back to Corvo and the hunter.

“My dear Corvo. Off you go once again to face that great cult dedicated to hating me. Reminds you of the old days, does it not? But things are so much more different this time.” His gaze shifted. “My Good Hunter. Reunited with an old tool from your past.” His black gaze flicked down towards the glowing slug, an Augur of Ebrietas if Corvo remembered correctly. “Such a strange, writhing thing. Do you think the Overseers, so much like your Choir, and yet so different, would take such pleasure in using it as they did?” His gaze drifted back up. “Be careful, you two. You’re not the only thing lurking in the shadows.” With that he vanished, leaving the Doll where she stood.

She glanced curiously, head tilted, at where the Outsider disappeared from, but quickly turned her attention back to the hunter and Corvo.

“Good Hunter. Lord Protector. I am afraid I cannot give you tools or advice as the Outsider does, but I do wish you luck.” She clasped her hands together, concern evident on her face. “This Dunwall is not like Yharnam, Good Hunter. Tread carefully. And Lord Protector. Yharnam is not a place that is kind to the good. Do not let it break you.” She gave the two of them one last look, her eyes soft, gentle, caring. “Safe travels.” With a bow and a gust of air, she, too, vanished back into the Void.

The two of them stood there in mildly shocked silence for a couple moments. The hunter was the first to move, adjusting his grip on the Augur as it tried to slowly wriggle out of his hands.

“What does it do?”

The hunter looked up at Corvo’s question, then back down at the glowing, writhing lump of slime in his hands. “Well… perhaps it’s better if I show you? Upstairs of course, I would hate to ruin the structural integrity of this room.” He slid the Augur into one of the many pouches on his belt, and climbed back up the ladder, gesturing for Corvo to follow.

He led Corvo out onto the street, and after a cursory glance to make sure they were alone, pulled out the Augur. Bracing himself, he gave the creature a harsh squeeze. With glow akin to the light of the Void surrounding his fist, the hunter was forcibly yanked forward as pale tentacles sprung from his hand, lashing out, scarring a crumbling building on their way. With a slight grunt, the hunter reeled them back in, and they vanished into the space of his sleeve.

The demonstration only lasted about a second, but left Corvo standing on the sidewalk, stunned as a peculiar smell, not unlike ozone, drifted through the air, left behind by whatever great creature the hunter had just called upon.

As Corvo stood in shocked silence, the hunter carefully placed the Augur back into his pouch, before closing the distance he had put between himself and Corvo.

“That’s what it does.” he said breathlessly. “Useful in combat, but…” his brow creased suddenly and he fell silent, a gloved hand coming up to his covered mouth, a look of worried realization in his eyes.

“But what?”

The hunter looked away. “It’s probably nothing. We can talk of it later; let’s get what we came for first.”

Corvo’s brow furrowed with concern beneath his mask, but nodded slowly. “Alright then. We should be getting close to the warehouse anyways.” He glanced up towards a ventilation shaft running along the edge of a nearby building. “Do you want to come up with me onto the rooftop? That might be a better alternative for travel until we reach the warehouse.”

The hunter tilted his head, considering the idea. “It would certainly be more quiet on my part. Stealth isn’t my forté, as you have probably figured out by now.”

Corvo huffed in amusement. “Yeah, I think you broke more bottles on the way here than I have in a lifetime.”

“And I’m going to break more in the future, to be sure.” The hunter replied with a chuckle. “So, I suppose you’ll think of a plan on what to do with me when we get there?”

Corvo nodded. “Just do what I tell you and we should be fine. This isn’t the first time I’ve done this sort of thing. I’m not expecting there to be too many guards; we should be able to skirt them and get in and out easily.”

The hunter gave a pleased hum at that. “Well, what are we waiting for, then? Off we go!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not featured is the scene where the doll and the outsider do each others nails in the void/dream and chat.
> 
> hmmmmm this chapter took a while to write but im looking forward to the next one! The next couple chapters I've been planning for a while and it's gonna be a fun time (for me, at least)
> 
> once again, thanks for all the really nice comments, all the kudos, bookmarks, etc!!
> 
> Also here's the meme/doodle collection. hope y'all like bad jokes and bad art  
> https://sta.sh/2s692ze25e8?edit=1


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Corvo thinks of a plan.

As Corvo and the hunter crested the roof of the last building, the warehouse they were looking for, numbered 32 in bright white, came into view. Corvo crouched, keeping a low profile as he surveyed the yard that stretched between their perch and their target. The hunter followed suit, albeit more awkwardly and with a greater squeaking of leather. 

One quick use of dark vision revealed only a handful of guards patrolling the area, nothing that couldn’t be avoided with some tactical blinks and use of the extensive piping that ran throughout the yard. On the opposite side, a window somebody had forgotten to close offered an easy entry point. 

Well, it would be easy, if not for the man standing next to him. Corvo sighed.

“Hunter…” the man perked up at his title.

“Yes?”

“Are you alright with being carried?” 

The hunter tilted his head. “How so?”

“Over my shoulder.” Corvo mimed the action. “I’ve spotted a fairly easy way to get into the building, but it’ll be difficult with two people standing next to each other to navigate. Me carrying you would be the safest way to do it.”

The hunter went silent, considering the proposal, then nodded. "If you think it's best, then I'll do it. So, how do we do we--?" The hunter was cut off as Corvo wrapped his arm around the man's waist and heaved him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.  "Oh. I see." said the hunter into Corvo's back.

He wasn't the heaviest person Corvo had carried, thank goodness; most of the City Watch seemed twice as heavy and were certainly more bulkier than the hunter. Although, Corvo supposed as he felt the hunter shift under his grip, those men had been thoroughly unconscious and not prone to a great amount of movement.

"Try to stay still; I'd hate to drop you."

"I'll keep that in mind." The hunter replied, voice even more muffled than it already was as he spoke into the back of Corvo's coat. "I must admit, this is not my most dignified moment."

"Well, it'll be over in a few minutes and we'll be safely inside, so just hang on." The hunter gave a disgruntled hum in return. 

With that, Corvo gingerly hopped down to the pipe below them and began to creep along it, carefully keeping an eye on the few Overseers below. None of the seemed to notice the two men above their heads making their way towards the warehouse, much to Corvo's relief. People never seemed to look up.

After several tactical blinks and a significant amount of sneaking along pipes, Corvo found himself right where he needed to be: within blinking distance of the open window. 

He blinked and immediately dropped the hunter as he stumbled, the unfortunately familiar sound of the Overseer's music boxes grating against his ears as his left hand flared painfully in protest before going numb. The hunter rolled a couple feet before carefully picking himself up from the floorboards, looking incredibly concerned as Corvo softly swore in pain and annoyance.

“Are you alright?” Corvo nodded, then shook his head to clear it, holding up his hand to stop the hunter from speaking again. 

“Yes, I’m fine. I can’t use my powers at the moment, though.” The hunter visibly relaxed at that.

“Oh, thank goodness.” he glanced upwards to where the mechanical song whined its way out of some speakers. “I’m assuming this cacophony has something to do with it?” Corvo nodded. 

“It doesn’t affect you?” The hunter shook his head.

“Not beyond being an irritant, no, I don’t believe so. Not in any way that I can feel, at least. Most likely due to the fact any extraordinary abilities I have originate from the Dream and not your Void."

"Well, you have that to your advantage at least." Corvo glanced up and down the hallway the two of them had ended up in. There was no one in sight, but he knew better than to assume that there weren't any patrols moving about. "Let's move, we shouldn't stay here." He kept low, the hunter a few steps behind him. He quickly looked through the lock of the first door he found, and upon finding nobody, slipped through, letting the hunter quietly shut the door behind them.

They appeared to be in an archive or records room of sorts, bookshelves stacked high with abandoned papers and ledgers.

"It seems no one has been here in a long while." The hunter observed, dragging a gloved finger across one of the desks, turning its dark leather a dull grey with dust. "We should be safe in here, for now." 

Corvo grunted in agreement, glancing around the room for anything that might be of use. The hunter, meanwhile, had taken an interest in a discarded book on whale anatomy.

"Hungry?" Corvo asked as he picked up a rather dusty can of tinned whale meat. The hunter looked up from his reading and after seeing the food offered, shook his head, face scrunching up in mild disgust behind his cloth mask.

"No, thank you. I'm not that desperate yet." 

Corvo huffed in amusement. "I don't blame you." He checked the tin one more time before setting it down. "I doubt that it's still good." 

A little bit more searching revealed something more along the lines of what he had been looking for. "Hunter!" he called softly. "I found a map of the place, and I think I have a plan!"

"Oh?" The man trotted over, abandoning his book. 

"Yeah, take a look at this." Corvo tapped the diagram pinned to the wall. "There's broadcasting booth near here, and I bet you that's where the Overseers are broadcasting the song. It also overlooks the entirety warehouse floor, so we should be able to figure out where they're keeping the rune from there as well." 

The hunter leaned towards the map to get a better look. "And it seems it's just through…" he glanced around the room, then pointed to his left. "...that door?" Corvo nodded.

"Yes, across the hall from here. I imagine that they'll have at least one guard in there, so I'd rather you wait here while I clear it out, then I'll come get you." The hunter nodded.

"Be careful, Mister Attano."

"I will. And it'll take less than a minute, don't worry." 

With that, he slipped out the door and into the empty hallway. A quick peek through the lock revealed a lone Overseer idly watching the warehouse floor below, his back turned towards the door. Corvo gingerly pushed the door open, holding his breath, ready to jump out of view should the man turn around.

Nothing.

Corvo seized the Overseer by the neck, and after a short, futile struggle, heaved the unconscious body over his shoulder and slunk back into the abandoned archive, dumping the Overseer at the hunter's feet. The hunter raised an eyebrow.

"Just one?" Corvo nodded.

"Just one." He replied.

"Hm. You would think they would want more than one person in there." Corvo frowned behind his mask, brow furrowing.

"You're right. Security is unusually loose up here."

"Perhaps we'll learn why once we get a better look at the warehouse floor?" The hunter offered. Corvo nodded, and gestured for the hunter to follow him.

As they entered the small room, Corvo took the opportunity to get a better look of the place. In front of the window, a complex display of buttons, dials, and switches sat, small labels indicating what parts worked machinery, what was for audio, and the like. There was one lone audiocard slot, which was currently occupied by an audiocard engrained with the Overseer's song. The hunter reached for the off switch, but Corvo batted his hand away before he could press it.

"Don't, we can't let them know we're here yet. In a moment, maybe." He leaned over the console, gazed out over the floor, swore, then sighed heavily. "Well, I found where they're keeping the rune." He took a step sideways, making room for the hunter to take a look. 

The hunter's brow furrowed profusely. "Hm. I see what you mean."

A group of approximately 20 Overseers, plus hounds, were tightly grouped around a single crate, all facing outwards in their layers of protection. Behind their backs, the air and reality warped strangely, a clear indication that  _ something _ unnatural lay there. 

Corvo bit his lip. "I can't sneak past them when they're like that. We'll have to find a way to lead at least some of them away. It's strange, though. I've never seen Overseers be so… attached to a heretical artefact like that."

The hunter tapped his cane absentmindedly. "I suspect that it has something to do with whatever Caryll Rune is inscribed on it. Even the mere suggestion of a Great One can have strange effects on people."

Corvo grunted in acknowledgment as he looked over the console controls, mind churning to think of something,  _ anything _ to lead the Overseers away from the rune. When his eyes landed on a rather dusty and clearly unused microphone, an idea sparked.

"Hunter, do you know how to use a microphone?"

The hunter just stared at him, clearly confused. "What's a microphone?"  

Corvo tapped the device. "This is. You press a button, talk into it and it'll broadcast over the speakers, and I think we can use it to our advantage." Corvo began to pace, a plan rapidly forming in his mind. "Now, turning the music off will certainly get their attention, but they'll probably only send one or two Overseers up here to check it out, which is not nearly enough. However, if someone were to say something rather heretical or shocking into the microphone, that might cause enough alarm that a considerable number of them would separate from the group, giving me enough room to sneak in and grab the rune.”

The hunter slowly nodded. “I think I understand what you’re saying. I’m hesitant to separate, however.”

“Me too.” Corvo replied. Leaving the hunter behind in unfamiliar, hostile territory was something he was reluctant to do, and the hunter seemed nervous to leave Corvo alone as well. “But I don’t see any other options that avoid a possible head-on confrontation.” He glanced out over the warehouse floor again, then pointed at a small pile of crates stacked messily enough that it left a gap on the lower row, not too far from where the Overseers crowded. “You see those crates? When I get underneath them, I’ll signal to you. That’s your cue to turn off the music, press that button, and start saying things into the microphone. And then I want you to run for it as soon as the Overseers outside of your sight. I’ll find you and get the two of us out of here.”

“And if something goes wrong?” the hunter inquired a tad skeptically, head tilted.

“I’ll think of something. You’ll think of something. It’ll be fine.”

“You don’t sound all too convinced.”

“I’m not, but I think it’s the best chance we have.”

The hunter was quiet for a moment, carefully considering a gap in the floorboards, then looked back up at Corvo, a resigned sigh escaping him. “Alright. I trust your judgement Mister Attano.” He held out his hand. His eyes glowed with determination. “Good luck.” 

Corvo grasped it and gave it a firm shake, the leather of the hunter’s gloved thumb rough against the back of his hand.

“You too. I’ll see you soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! this chapter's a bit shorter than normal but if i went with my original plan the chapter would have been really long and that would have bothered me a lot. but i think where i stopped actually makes the pacing a bit better, so maybe its better this way, y'know?
> 
> man aren't you guys excited to see corvo's plan unfold? its gonna be great :)
> 
> no new memes or doodles this week, sorry!
> 
> Edit: ALSO I wanted to say thank you so much for all the kudos!!! this fic hit 100 kudos in the space between chapters and im just. wow. there's a lot of you.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the plan goes horribly awry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally making good on that M for gore rating, folks (warning for animal and person death)! Also, warning for some brief descriptions of vomit and some more mental health stuff, but nothing we haven't seen before! Just an FYI.

Corvo ducked underneath the stack of crates and heaved a sigh of relief. He'd managed to avoid being spotted, silently ducking and weaving among the boxes, but still, there were a couple instances that were a tad too close for comfort, especially with the absence of his powers. But that was going to be remedied soon enough, he hoped. 

He stuck his hand out from under the boxes, just for a moment, then pulled it back like he had been scalded, praying that nobody but the hunter had seen it. 

The music stopped, and Corvo could feel the cold burn of magic rush back into his mark. The boots of the Overseers shuffled nervously, the men murmuring amongst themselves, but they went silent as the speakers crackled to life once more.

That's when the laughing started.

Now, Corvo had heard the hunter laugh before, usually no more than a chuckle, and it was, while a tad strangled at times, not an unpleasant sound. What was emanating from the speakers was not this. It didn’t so much as trace a shiver down Corvo’s back as it more cleanly sliced down his spine with an icy razor, the feeling eventually settling heavy in his stomach with cold dread. 

Corvo shook his head. No, no, the hunter was on _his_ side, there’s nothing to be afraid of.

He poked his head out to check on the Overseers. None of them had moved yet, but by posture alone, it was clear that they were alarmed. He suspected he wouldn’t have to wait much longer.

The laughter died off, and the hunter began to speak. 

“Good Overseers of the Abbey,” he purred, “have you seen the light? Just a hair, a fleeting thing, yet I clung to it, oh, how I did! I never wanted to know what it really was. Really, I didn’t!” There was a strange sort of calmness to his voice that Corvo couldn’t place, a tone that he would compare to the Outsider’s if it weren’t so unhinged in its nature. He shuddered. The Overseers should be moving any moment now.

“Grant us eyes! Grant us eyes! Plant eyes in our brains to cleanse our beastly idiocy!” The hunter ranted, voice growing more feverish by the second. “The cosmos! Great cosmos, of course! Can’t you see? Can’t you see?! The brain is all we have!”

Apparently, that was enough manic rambling to finally get the Overseers to come to their senses. “Who let that heretic up there?!” one of them cried out, sounding rather indignant. “Get him down, right now!” 

Corvo leaned out just in time to see several separate from the main group to follow the order, leaving a small gap in the Overseer's defenses. This was his chance.

He reached with his left hand and _pulled_.

The world turned grey as everything around him came to a standstill, leaving his arm feeling tingly from the strenuous magic use. He ignored the sensation and dashed out from under his hiding spot, running at a full sprint towards the group of still Overseers. He reached through the space, clawing at the rune, eventually getting a grip on it. As soon as he had it in his hand, he turned on his heel and sprinted back to the boxes, sliding back under them just as time resumed.

He heaved a sigh of relief, tucking the rune into his pocket, ignoring the strange, indescribable prickling feeling it left on his hand. Everything was in order. Now all he had to do was find a way out, meet back up with the hunter, and the two of them would be safe and--

Corvo’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of shattering glass.

He peeked out from underneath his hiding place just in time to see the hunter hit the ground and neatly roll into a standing position, cane and pistol drawn and at the ready. The angry shouts of Overseers emanated from broadcasting booth above, one of its windows newly broken. Corvo silently cursed. It seemed that there was a very quick path up to the booth neither he nor the hunter had discovered, but that the Overseers definitely knew about, a concept that made Corvo incredibly frustrated in himself. He prayed that the hunter might at least be able to make a run for it.

That hope was quickly ground to bits as several Overseers advanced on the hunter, swords drawn, cornering him against some crates and blocking any possible escape routes. Corvo stared at their boots, motionless. He wasn't going to be moving; there was no way he was going to be able to stop time again, especially not so soon. 

"Drop your weapons." commanded an Overseer near the front. Corvo could practically see the sword leveled with authority at the hunter's chest. 

The hunter offered no reply, opting to shift his foot stance slightly instead. 

"So be it." the Overseer snarled, raising his blade. Corvo tensed, expecting to hear the ring of steel against steel, or worse, the meaty sound of steel against flesh.

What he heard instead was a gunshot.

The Overseer staggered back, sword still raised, blood beginning to soak his uniform's shoulder. Ah, so that's what the hunter was going to do, he was going to strike the Overseer with his cane while the man's defenses were down, which Corvo had to admit, wasn't a bad--

The cane disappeared beneath the hunter's coat with an almost inhuman speed. Then, he clenched his fist, pulled back, and _shoved_ , puncturing the Overseer's gut with a sickening squelch. The Overseer let out a strangled gasp of pain as the hunter dug his hand in, tensed slightly, and _ripped_ , spraying blood across himself and the ground, and sending the Overseer crashing backwards into his brothers before hitting the floor  with a meaty thud, a hole in his stomach and dead as could be.

The hunter flicked his hand, scattering viscera into the bloody spray on the floor, seemingly uncaring that the rest of his clothes were soaked dark with blood, or that the whole area now dripped with its sickening, metallic scent.

Corvo swallowed the bile trying to creep its way up his throat, and did his best to ignore the blood that was beginning to spread into his hiding place. There was _so much_. He'd seen blood before, of course, but the sheer brutality of the hunter's attack and the ease with which he did it made Corvo's stomach clench with horror and disgust.

The rest of the Overseers went silent, seemingly shocked at the display, leaving only the sounds of the hunter’s harsh, ragged breathing and the steady _drip, drip, drip_ of blood running off his glove. He reached back underneath his coat, pulling out the cane once more, smearing red on its bright silver grip. 

An Overseer near the back whistled, stirring the wolfhounds by his side into action. They bounded forward, jaws agape, tongues slathering. The hunter in turn twisted the cane's handle, snapping the blade into its pieces. The hounds leaped, and were met with the harsh snap of the serrated whip, flaying their muzzles, sending a spray of droplets through the air. They hit the ground and barely had time to regain their footing before they were met with another blow, causing them to collapse to the floor, hound blood beginning to mingle with human.

An angry cry rose up from the group, the death of their brother and loyal beasts finally spurring them into action. 

The first set of blades were nimbly avoided as the hunter rolled out of the way, lashing out at them as he came to his feet. Those that were hit staggered backwards, clutching their newly formed cuts as the hunter stamped the cane back into a blade, bringing it up just in time to block an oncoming strike. The blades met with a clang, parting as soon as they met, the hunter hopping backwards. He reached back under his coat, left hand vanishing only to reemerge with the Augur in hand, just as another group of Overseers rushed forward. The hunter squeezed the creature and was yanked forward as the tentacles unfurled, smashing into several Overseers and decimating several crates, leaving a gap in the offense when the hunter reeled the creature back in. 

He dashed forward, clearly hoping to take this chance to get away. 

An Overseer grabbed him by the shoulder, hard, stopping him for long enough to shove a blade through his back. The hunter let out a choked gasp, staring down at the red tip blooming from his chest like some sort of malicious flower. The Overseer yanked the saber out with a sickeningly slick sound, sending the hunter to his knees, where he let out a strangled cry of pain and frustration before collapsing to the ground, blood pooling beneath his body, limbs twitching minutely before finally going still.

Then, the hunter turned to ash.

The remaining Overseers gathered over the spot where he vanished from in a grim silence.

"Pathetic creature." one of them finally said with a sneer. "So steeped in the Outsider's black magic that its body returned to the Void. A pity we couldn't study it."

Corvo didn't stick around to hear the rest of the conversation, and was already out the door by the time they moved to clean up their dead. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He stood in the street, shivering despite his many layers, arm propped up over his head as he leaned against a wall and clutched his stomach, staring at the puddle of bile he had created on the cobblestones.

He'd forgotten how painful dying was. And how easy death was to cause. How could he? How could he have forgotten? How could he slip back to such detestable habits? 

He could still feel his hand gripping the masked Overseer's guts, the blood caking his sleeve, although it was quite clean now. No evidence of his deeds or his death, just the weight on his soul.

His stomach heaved again, but nothing came up.

Movement. Behind him. He spun around, reaching for his cane as he came face to face with a leering, metallic grin with empty eyes--

Which was lifted up to reveal Corvo Attano, dark eyes radiating concern.

"Hunter? It's just me. Are… are you alright?" his voice was soft, a little hesitant, and he had his hands raised, as if he was approaching a frightened animal. The hunter relaxed, sighing.

"Yes, Mister Attano, I'm… I'll be fine." He swallowed. "Did you get it?"

Corvo wordlessly nodded and reached into is coat, pulling out the pale rune, glancing down at it. "Feels strange, like my Mark is reacting to it." He held it out. "Do you recognize the symbol?" 

The hunter carefully took it from him, brushing his thumb over the edge of the carving. It was triangular in shape, with a simple eye glowering in the center, lines radiating off. A bark of laughter escaped his chest. How ironic that the symbol of the Executioners would end up in the hands of another faction of zealots. He'd forgotten them, almost willfully, but he remembered them now, and the rune's meaning rushed back to him as if it were written in common letters.

"It's Radiance." he eventually replied, handing the rune back to Corvo, who tucked it carefully back into his coat. "The symbol of the Executioners, a faction of the Healing Church. Not so different from your Overseers I suppose, although their purpose was different." He laughed again, humorlessly, a tad unhinged. Corvo gave him another worried look.

"Let's sit down for a down for a bit and catch our breath." he said slowly, gesturing at some rubble that looked steady enough to serve as seats. The hunter tilted his head in confusion, as Corvo didn't seem out of breath and he himself certainly wasn't, but nodded in agreement, taking a seat amongst the bricks, Corvo next to him.

They were silent for a while, the sound of rats being the only other thing in earshot besides their quiet breathing. 

"Are you sure you're okay?" Corvo asked, breaking the silence gently. "I know you said you were, but…" he gestured helplessly. "You were stabbed through the heart. You _died_." The hunter nodded, fidgeting, staring dead ahead, refusing to make eye contact.

"It's no trouble. It's not my first time. The first time is always the worst." The words felt wooden and hollow on his tongue. Although, they weren't entirely untrue. It wasn't his death that bothered him, not really. 

"Is this about what happened before?" The hunter didn't answer. "Hunter, you can't blame yourself, they were trying to kill you--"

"Ha!" The hunter barked with an unamused laugh. "So they were." He turned to Corvo, tugging down his scarf, a twisted, unhappy smile forming on his face. "But as you can see, Mister Attano, _I'm not dead_ . No matter how many times I'm killed, I come back like some sort of cockroach, again and again and again." He could feel the madness leaking into his voice, the sheer knowledge of his situation beginning to bleed past his mental barriers. "Those dogs will never feel the loving touch of their masters; That man will never see anyone he cares about ever again, he'll never get to see the sun rise in the morn, never see the snow, never celebrate the coming of the new year, never, never, _never!_ " He laughed, shrill, unhinged, and angry. "I had _no right_ ; I should have let them kill me where I stood. I should have just taken care of the job for them, save them the trouble!"

"Hunter!" Corvo snapped, grabbing him by the shoulder. He went quiet, staring at Corvo with wide eyes, hands twitching. "Take a deep breath; you're working yourself up."

"But, I--"

"Shh, I know. I've been in a similar position before. Just… try to calm down. It's the best thing to do, trust me." The hunter gave a jerky nod, inhaling, then exhaling shakily, but slowly. Corvo breathed with him, his hand an anchor on the hunter's shoulder.

The man's breath eventually steadied, and he nodded when Corvo asked if he was ready to go. He gave Corvo a weak smile as they stood.

"Thank you. And--" he gestured to where Corvo had tucked away the rune "--we're one step closer to fixing all this. Hopefully, our future ventures will go more smoothly."

Corvo gave a half-hearted smile in return. "Yes, hopefully."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *the bloodborne "You Died" screen appears, but the dishonored "You Have Met Your Demise" sound effect plays*
> 
> great plan guys! good job team!  
> oh well. at least corvo is pretty okay at comforting people.
> 
> alt chapter title: the hunter fucking dies
> 
> also, new memes, featuring some kick-ass art from nox!  
> https://sta.sh/2s692ze25e8


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Daud receives an unexpected guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for brief descriptions of wounds and medical procedures. Nothing too bad, but still.

The moon had decided to stop hiding behind the clouds by the time Daud finally made his way back to his office from the dining hall. How Thomas and Carlo had convinced him to stay and play cards after dinner, he wasn't sure, especially since the two novices they had looped in as well were Chester and Thorpe, a former professional gambler and someone who didn't know how to play poker, respectively. The game eventually devolved into Daud patiently teaching Thorpe how to play while Chester slowly raked in the other Whalers' spare change and bottles of whiskey. By the time the whole debacle was finished and Daud had convinced Carlo that no, Chester hadn't been cheating, he was just very good, it was well past the time Daud preferred everyone to be asleep, including Daud himself. 

He shut the glass door behind him with a sigh and stretched, feeling something pop in his lower back. The moonlight washed the room in a silver glow, faintly glinting off the old decorations and--

Daud frowned. Something shone wetly on the ground. Not water, it hadn't rained, and the mark was too geometrical to be a simple liquid spill. He crouched to get a better look.

It was a boot print, smeared against the floor like the owner was dragging their leg. Daud experimentally touched it with a finger, sniffing the tacky liquid on his glove. It's scent was familiar, metallic. It gleamed a dark red in the moonlight. Blood. 

A few feet away, a black feather lay abandoned on top of a few drops of blood, accompanied by another boot print. A couple footprints away lay another dark feather, the trail leading through his office and out the open window. 

" _ Shit _ ." Daud muttered. He wasn't sure what to make of it, but it had to be that hunter character, right? Although, he wasn't sure how the man would have made it past the Whalers a second time, and this time wounded at that. But who else would be wearing boots and shedding feathers? So unless one of his men had taken a liking to bullying crows in their spare time (which he sincerely doubted, he would have noticed something like that), it was, most likely, the hunter, he concluded.

He followed the trail out the window, grabbing a vial of Sokolov's elixir off his desk as he did, tucking it into a pocket. He crossed the metal catwalk carefully, quietly, eyeing the ruined building for any sign of life.

There, he could see a figure, hunched over on the ground, not far from where the catwalk met the building, propped up against the wall. That was a place Daud knew all too well.

That's where Corvo spared his life.

Daud shook his head, forcefully shoving the thought aside, and inched forward. He could see the ruffled edges of the dark, feathered cloak outlined in the moonlight, and the pale curve of the beaked mask. Ragged breathing permeated the air.

"Hunter?" he called out. "Is that you?" 

The masked face turned towards him as he stepped onto the ruined floor, tilted in consideration before the person behind it sighed and leaned back against the crumbling wall.

"A Hunter, yes, but probably not the one you're looking for." The voice behind the mask was  _ definitely _ not the hunter he knew. It was a woman's voice, on the older side if Daud had to guess, and strangely accented too. Not from anywhere in the Isles. "And even if you were," the strange woman continued, "I'd doubt I'd be of much help." She paused and took in a shuddering breath, gasping slightly in pain. "Made a bit of a blunder of things, you see. I don't know where I am." She looked up towards the sky, lights gently twinkling in the inky blackness. "I don't know these stars. But, it is a nice view." 

Daud glanced up at the heavens. Clouds obscured a part of it, but what was there was pretty. If he didn't have a medical emergency on his hands, he'd even take a moment to admire it.

 He kneeled besides the woman, observing her wounds. Nasty, animalistic gashes, heavy bleeding, the pale shine of what might be bone, possible infection; she'd be dead if she didn't get medical attention soon. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the red elixir.  

"Here. Drink this." He uncapped the vial, holding it out towards the woman. She shook her head, weakly pushing his hand back.

"No… No more blood for me. I'd rather die than go drunk with it."

"What…? No, it's not blood, it's just red." He pushed it forward again. "Drink it, it'll slow the bleeding and keep you alive long enough to get you to the infirmary." After a moment's hesitation, she took the elixir, pushing back her mask slightly just as Daud turned and summoned the first awake Whaler within reach.

He ended up with a bleary-eyed, bewildered Thomas, whose toothbrush was still in his mouth when he appeared. The man blinked once, twice, before letting out a very confused and exhausted "Sir…?"

"Wake up Julian and do it fast; we have a medical emergency." Thomas squinted in confusion at Daud, but his eyes widened when they fell on the wounded figure. 

He gave a sharp nod and a "Right away, sir." before vanishing. As Daud turned back to the woman, he found her watching him with what he could only hope was interest; the mask made it difficult to tell, especially since she wasn't giving much away via body language. She held up the empty vial.

"I'm guessing you want this back? Good stuff, whatever it is." 

Daud shook his head. "No, leave it here for now, I'll pick it up later. Do you think you can stand at all?"

"With a bit of help, aye. Give me your arm." Daud complied, and with more strength than he was expecting, the woman hauled herself up, careful to keep her weight on her good leg, letting the wounded one simply dangle as she slung her arm around Daud's neck, using him as an impromptu crutch. "Don't know why you're helping a perfect stranger, but I thank you."

"I have my reasons." He began to slowly help her limp awkwardly back across the metal catwalk. "But I'd prefer that you preserve your energy and stay alive than talk about them now. Even with the elixir, you've lost a lot of blood. I expect that Julian's going to force you to stay in bed for a couple days at the very least."

"Hm, that so…?" Her voice sounded listless, tired. The elixir's effect was fading faster than he'd hoped.

"Oh no you don't, stay with me now!" He sped up his pace, practically dragging the woman with him. "At least die in the infirmary!"

"Can't make any promises now…" the woman mumbled, beaked mask beginning to dip low.

"No! Come on, we're almost there!" He looked up at the semi-ruined building across the street, eyes locking on an open window. "Just… hang on tight, will you?" He felt the woman's grip around his neck tighten ever so slightly. That would have to be enough. With a clench of his fist, he blinked, landing just inside the infirmary, causing the woman to stumble, almost collapsing, and startling the two men waiting inside. 

"Sir!" exclaimed Thomas, while Julian rushed forward to take the woman from Daud, speedily getting her to the nearest bed. He kneeled next to her, quietly observing the wounds on her side and legs, completely ignoring Daud, his physician's instinct kicking in. Daud had to admire the dedication at the very least, especially considering the medic was still in his pajamas. He turned towards Thomas, letting the man do his work.

"Good work, Thomas. You are dismissed; go get some sleep." The man nodded wearily, bowed, and staggered out of the room. Julian looked up from his observing to Daud, simply making eye contact, saying "Stitches.", and indicating the direction of the supplies he needed. Daud nodded, quickly making his way across the room, picking up the needle, thread, bandages, and disinfecting alcohol that he was pretty sure were used with stitches. Normally, this sort of behavior from one of his men would be borderline insubordination, but Daud knew Julian well enough to know that the man would deal with formalities  _ after _ his patient had been taken care of. He knew how to prioritize, and that was something that Daud respected. 

He handed the supplies to Julian, who accepted them with a nod. "This will probably hurt." he said to the woman, pushing the torn fabric away from the first wound. "I'll try to be as fast as possible." The woman only offered a faint nod in response. 

Daud paced the length of the room as Julian did his work, the sound of his boots against the floor occasionally interspersed with a hiss or a grunt of pain. He knew he probably shouldn't worry, Julian was good at his job, but that woman had lost a lot of blood and the wound might be infected and what if there was internal bleeding and his transportation only made things worse? Why was he this worried? He barely knew her! He was only keeping her alive because the hunter told Daud to contact him or Attano if any more relevant information popped up. Yes, that was it. Although, there was certain determined hardiness to her that he admired, a trait he found in a great many of his Whalers. Perhaps if she didn't end up being relevant to whatever the Lord Protector was up to, he'd offer her a place among them, even though they were moving soon.

"Sir." Julian's voice jolted Daud out of his thoughts, causing him to stop his pacing. The lamplight flickered off of the medic's bloody fingers. "I'm finished."

"Will she be alright?"

"Yes. I'm pretty sure. Doesn't look like there's infection." He replied with a nod, glancing at the woman. "She passed out near the end. Either from blood loss or exhaustion. Hard to tell. Probably both." He walked past Daud to a wash basin, and continuing as he gently washed his hands. "She should stay in bed for a while, a couple days at least. After that, she can walk with a cane. Hard to say when she'll not need assistance. Depends on how well and how fast she heals. Bonecharms will make the process go faster. If I have permission of course, sir."

"You do." Daud frowned. "Do you know what caused it?"

Julian hesitated, his brows briefly furrowing as a look of worry crossed his normally neutral face. "Hard to tell." he eventually said. "They look like wounds caused by the wolfhounds, but wolfhounds don't get that big. Sorry, sir." 

Daud shifted his jaw in consideration before nodding. "Alright. Good work, Julian. Get some rest."

"Yes, sir. You should as well. I'll let you know when she's awake." Julian bowed, turned around and immediately flopped down on the nearest empty bed, his breathing becoming slow and deep within a few moments.

Daud watched the man's sleeping form in amusement for a moment before replying, "I will. Good-night, Julian. Good-night, stranger."

With that, he blinked out the window.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was approximately half an hour before noon when Daud received a visit from somewhat irritated-looking Julian who simply said "The patient is awake and is also armed, sir." and turned and left before Daud had time to properly process the statement. When he finally did, he practically bolted across the street and into the infirmary building, doing his best not to look frazzled as he scrambled through the window, straightening himself up once he was solidly on the floor.

The woman was where he left her, but was now very much awake and feeling better if the whetstone she was calmly sharpening her blade with was any indication. It was a rather strange weapon, curved, golden in color. A line indicating a point of fusion or possible separation outlined a slightly smaller, curved blade, allowing the weapon to be wielded one-handed or dual-wielded. A neat trick if his deduction was correct, Daud had to admit.

"I'm starting to think you don't like to use doors." she said as he entered, not even bothering to look up from her handiwork. Her expression was hard to read, mostly because she still wore the mask, but Daud could hear an edge of amusement in her voice.

"Doors are perfectly fine." Daud replied indignantly, folding his arms and scowling sternly. "I just don't restrict myself to them." His expression softened. "How are you feeling?"

"I'll be alright now that I'm not dead." She paused, setting down her sword and stone. "You didn't have to do that you know, but you do have my thanks. I'm Eileen, I don't think we ever properly introduced." She extended her hand, which Daud took and firmly shook.

"Daud." She nodded

"Well, Daud, it's a pleasure. Did you ever find that Hunter you were looking for?"

Daud shook his head. "No, but I think I know where he is. You might know him."

"Maybe. I know a lot of Hunters."

"Hm." Daud began to pace. "I hope you do. Are you from Y… damn, what was the name?"

"Yharnam? Well, I'm not from there originally but I've been living there a while."

"Yes, that's it. Shit." The pacing sped up, while Eileen simply watched patiently.

"You're going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep that up." she said. Daud stopped pacing. "What's got you worried?"

"I need to go write a letter to and possibly meet with someone I don't wish to see and didn't think I'd ever see again." Eileen tilted her head, then chuckled like Daud had just told a rather bad joke.

"That's it? Well, do it sooner than later; waiting only makes it worse. Not that it's any of my business."

Daud grunted irritably, but he knew she was right. Waiting would only make Attano more upset at him. 

"Hm. I'll have someone bring up some food to you later. Don't go anywhere."

"Don't think I can, what with your medic sulking just outside that door, but I'll keep it in mind. Now, off you go, don't let me keep you from your business."

Daud huffed in amusement as he leaned out the windowsill. "Alright. I'll see you later, Eileen."

"I'm sure you will. But next time, use the door."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well everyone the gang's all here! we got eileen now!
> 
> so we got corvo and the hunter as our like A team, yeah? daud and eileen are the B team. the realization that they would have a cool dynamic hit me at like 3 am when i first started properly writing this fic and i haven't looked back since. crow mom and wolf dad are a good team
> 
> since eileen is here, that means there's a fuck ton of memes and doodles that I can now post since they feature her! so check that out if you wanna  
> https://sta.sh/2s692ze25e8
> 
> we'll return to our regularly scheduled hunter and corvo time next chapter.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Corvo receives a note, and Daud receives a response.

Sunlight drifted through the tall windows of Corvo's office, dappling the scattered papers across his desk with the colors of the late morning. Normally, it would be a pretty, calming sight, but at this point he was too stressed and exhausted to particularly care. It wouldn't be a lie if it was said he wasn't a little jealous of the fact that the hunter didn't have any work to do and thus could relax at least a little. But alas, Corvo had a job to do, and by the Void, he was going to do it.

He reached for the first set of papers, the guard assignments and patrols for the day, not particularly expecting anything unusual, since he hadn't ordered any changes. So, when he opened the folder and had a folded up piece of paper fall into his lap, he frowned at the unexpected addition. Setting the folder aside, he picked it up and carefully unfolded it, revealing scratchy, almost illegible, but strangely familiar, handwriting.

_Found a wounded hunting crow._ _Maybe a friend of your Hunter? Reply with time and place if you want to meet. No payment necessary._

_ -Daud _

Corvo was half-tempted to simply toss the paper into a wastebasket and not give Daud the dignity of a response, but this was the  _ hunter's _ business, and that he couldn't afford to ignore. 

Quickly, he scribbled his signature on the bottom of the guard orders, approving them and abandoning them on his desk, setting off with note clutched in hand to find the hunter.

He started out with the man's room. The knock on the door received no response and when he opened it, the only occupants were the hunter's belongings strewn about in a state of organized chaos. So, not here then. Corvo shut the door, glancing around to see if he could find someone to ask about the man's whereabouts. 

A pinched, exhausted, familiar looking face framed by hair arranged messily into a bun caught his eye. 

"Callista!" He called out, causing Emily's tutor to turn in surprise. "Have you seen the Hunter? I need to talk to him."

She tilted her head. "Is he not in his room?" 

"No. Any idea where he went?"

"Well, he did mention that he was going to check out the library at some point today, so maybe you can start there." She sighed. "While you're at it, do you mind searching for Emily as well? She's hiding from me again. I was hoping she'd be with him, but he said he hadn't seen her when I stopped by earlier. "

Corvo nodded. "Alright, I'll see if I can find her. Thank you."

A couple of turns and a set of stairs later, Corvo found himself in front of the doors to Dunwall Tower's sizeable library. He carefully pushed one open, slipping into the room silently. Gentle conversation drifted from a corner, catching his attention with not one, but two familiar voices.

"From what I can tell, the whale from where I'm from that's closest to the sort of whales that are here is the sperm whale." said one of the voices, low, soft, intelligent. The hunter, then. "They're big, but they're not the biggest of the whales."

"Why are they called sperm whales?" said the other voice, energetic, excited, curious. Corvo smiled slightly. He could recognize Emily's voice anywhere. It seemed that the hunter had been lying about his knowledge of the young empress's whereabouts. 

The hunter paused before responding with "I don't know, actually. I always found it a rather strange name."

"Yeah, it's weird." Corvo poked his head around a bookshelf, finally finding the two huddled together over a book and a couple of drawings, some in Emily's childish scrawl, others in a more messy scribble that Corvo could only assume were the hunter's attempt at art. 

"I didn't know you had a new teacher, Emily." He gently called out, causing the odd pair to jolt in alarm.

“M-Mister Attano!” the hunter spluttered, wide-eyed. “I was, uh, well, rather, Emily was teaching me about some of the basics of this world and of Dunwall since I know little. I was telling her about some things from where I’m from in return. A diplomatic exchange, if you will.”

Emily nodded enthusiastically in agreement, declaring “I’m the Empress, this is the kind of thing I’m supposed to do, right Corvo?”

Corvo chuckled. "Yes, but usually those sorts of things are scheduled and definitely shouldn't be in the middle of your lessons." She pouted at his response, jutting her lower lip out.

“It’s boring old history again though! And politics! And besides, I’m learning! The Hunter’s teaching me, right Hunter?”

“Well, I suppose, but I doubt it’ll be useful for you as the Empress.” The man paused, awkwardly fiddling with the pencil he held in his hand before suddenly saying “Miss Emily, how about we do this? You go to your lesson, and then later you can tell me what you learned about and I’ll tell you some interesting parts of the history of where I’m from. I’m actually much more well versed in that in comparison to zoology.”

Emily tilted her head, considering the offer. “Fine. You promise though?”

The hunter nodded. “I give you my word.”

Corvo grinned. “That sounds like a diplomatic deal if I’ve ever heard one. Let’s get you back to Callista. And Hunter?” Corvo’s face grew grim. “Stay where you are. Something came up and we need to talk about it.” The man’s brow furrowed, but he quietly nodded in agreement as Corvo escorted Emily back to her tutor.

As he re-entered the library, he found himself abruptly face to face with a rather worried looking hunter, who asked “What happened? Did you find another lead? Or is the beast plague already beginning to break out?” Corvo blinked in surprise at the sudden bombardment of questions, but eventually shook his head and held out the now crumpled note.

“I think it’s best if you read it.”  The hunter paused, taking the paper, and began to read it, his eyes darting across the page before they widened in shock. His hand trembled slightly as he let out a gasp, hand clapping over his mouth as he read the note again.

“By the gods.” he whispered, voice choked. “He has Eileen. I… I thought she was dead.” 

“Who’s Eileen?” The hunter looked up from the note at Corvo’s question, still clearly shocked.

“Well, she’s… uh…” his eyes darted around, like he was hoping to spot the words he was looking for. He eventually heaved a sigh, slumping into a chair nearby with Corvo following suit. “I don’t think I would surprise you when I say Yharnam wasn’t the nicest place.”

“Not really, no.”

“Well, occasionally, somehow, I would find… good, sane people. Ones that didn’t mock me or attack me on sight. Eileen was one of them. She was, well, is, I suppose, a Hunter of Hunters. They’re a special type of Hunter employed to hunt down and kill other Hunters who have gone mad with their drunkenness and pose a threat to others. I helped her out a couple times but…” he trailed off, swallowing thickly. “But I was too late for the last one. Last I saw her, she was bleeding out on the street, barely conscious, and she passed on her title to me. There’s a whole tradition behind the role I don’t fully understand, but I did my best to fulfill it. But if she's alive… that's either very good or very bad. Quite possibly both."

"How so?"

"Well, on one hand, I can practically guarantee that Eileen will help us, so that gives us another ally and one who lived in Yharnam for much longer than me. On the other, that could mean much less friendly entities might already be wandering around. I'd keep an especially open ear for any word of strange people, beasts, or killings from now on." Corvo nodded.

"I'll keep that in mind. So, what do you want to do about this?"

"About Eileen? Well, if her condition was anything like I last saw her, she's probably not in any form to walk. Maybe suggest a meeting about two weeks out in your office? That should give her enough time to heal somewhat."

Corvo hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. Maybe a new lead will have popped up by then." He sighed. "Damn it."

The hunter gave him a curious, concerned look. “Is it about Daud?”

Corvo nodded again, staring at the low table in front of them. The hunter had moved his and Emily’s drawings there, sorting them into two piles sorted by artist. On Emily’s side, he could see the crude outline of a wolfhound, its slender head showing off its pointed teeth. Next to it was another equally disturbing depiction of some sort of canine, long limbs, floppy ears, and a tongue lolling out from an unusually wide jaw. It’s blank eyes stared back at him, devoid of any emotion, mocking him.

The thought of letting Daud back into the Tower made him sick to his stomach.

In the corner of his vision, he could see the hunter fidget awkwardly, searching for something appropriate to say.

 “I… I understand if you want to change the meeting location. I can go see him myself if that would-”

“No.” Corvo cut him off. “He has your friend, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he had more leads. I’ll… It’ll just be business. I’ll be fine.” That didn’t seem to alleviate the hunter’s worry,  but the man didn’t press any further.

“Alright. Let’s hope nothing happens in those two weeks.”

“Yes, let’s.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sir.” Daud looked up at the sound of Thomas’ voice in the doorway. “We got a response from one of Lord Attano’s agents.”

“What’d they say?”

“He wants you to meet at his office in two weeks and to bring Eileen and any other possible leads.”

“Sounds reasonable. Already on a first name basis with her?”

“She won’t give any other name, sir.” Daud frowned, then shrugged. Fair enough, he did the same thing, he thought as he turned back to his paperwork. “Also, I was by the infirmary earlier to since Carlo sprained his ankle pretty badly and Julian wanted me to tell you that she’ll be on her feet by the end of the day and that in another couple of days she’ll be fully healed.”

Daud looked up again in surprise, a look of shock bleeding onto his face. “Already?”

Thomas nodded. “Julian’s thoughts as well. Apparently the bonecharms seem to be especially effective on her. She doesn’t seem too bothered by it though. She told me to tell you that she says hello.”

“Hm.” Daud furrowed his brow, but eventually turned back to the papers on his desk. “Alright, thank you Thomas. You’re dismissed.” 

“Sir.” The Whaler saluted and vanished.

Dinner time eventually rolled around and Daud's stomach was beginning to loudly complain about how it hadn't been fed since his meagre breakfast. He set down his pen, resigning himself to getting something to eat before going back to a possible "Yharnam Lead" as he'd dubbed them, something involving the Boyles.

When he entered the dining hall, it was crowded, as was to be expected. What was not expected was the fact that the crowd, mostly novices but the blue of the masters was sprinkled in, was huddled around a figure perched on one of the tables, crowding in like they were some kind of wise prophet.

The figure revealed themselves to be Eileen upon closer inspection, gripping the old black cane that Daud recognized as the one Julian kept shoved in a corner of the infirmary with one hand, the other resting on her knee. Her cloak of feathers spread out behind her on the table like a pair of wings. 

"The Powder Kegs weren't ones for subtlety, I can tell you that much." She said to her attentive audience. "They preferred weapons with a bit of 'kick', as they put it." She looked up as Daud slowly stepped into the room. "Ah, hello, Daud. I figured you'd come here sooner or later."

He gave her a suspicious, if not rather bewildered look. “What’s going on?”

The Whalers at Eileen’s feet didn’t offer a response, most of them looking like they were just caught stealing one of Daud’s cigarettes.

“Well, one of your men asked who I was, I answered, and it ran away with itself, as things tend to do. I was just here to get something to eat. Speaking of.” She turned back to the crowd of Whalers. “I still haven’t gotten my supper. Move it, you lot.”

The men at her feet scattered, making a path from her to the pot that presumably held the evening's meal. After filling her bowl with stew and grabbing a chunk of bread, Eileen abandoned the room. Daud quickly followed suit, trailing her limping form down the hall, out a window that had been re-purposed as a door, and into the remains of an upper floor, its missing roof offering a lovely view of the darkening sky.

Eileen leaned against the wall, poking at the potatoes floating in her stew halfheartedly with a spoon. She glanced at Daud, eyes glinting under her mask in the evening light.

"Did you want to tell me something?"

Daud hummed a yes, joining her in leaning against the wall. "I got a response from that letter I sent the other day. Seems that Hunter I was talking about does know you. We'll be meeting with him and the Lord Protector in two weeks."

"You act like I should know who that is."  She replied, swallowing a mouthful of her dinner.

Daud shrugged. "He's important and he doesn't like me; that's all you need to know."

"Hm." She didn't ask for elaboration, opting to continue stirring her bowl. "I'll go. One thing I have to ask of you, however."

"What is it?"

"When I can properly walk again, I'd like to spar against you. Make sure I've still got what I need."

Daud blinked in surprise. "You're welcome to challenge any of my men, if you'd like."

"You're the best though, right?"

"I suppose so."

"Then I want it to be you."

He sighed, shook his head, and gave a resigned shrug. "Fine. Just don't expect me to go easy on you."

The grin in her response was clear. "I'd be disappointed if you did. 4 days from now?"

"Sounds like a deal."

"Perfect."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since this one was later than usual, it gets to be longer. school's started again (and it's college too so that's fun) so don't expect as frequent updates
> 
> also i might do like...... a side series for this because i wanted to write something with emily and the hunter but couldn't fit it in.... idk we'll see. also might write something with a dishonored au idea i had that i kinda like. so who knows how things will go.
> 
> no memes or fun drawings this time, sorry! maybe next time.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Eileen and Daud have a scuffle, albeit a friendly one, and the hunter opens Corvo's mail.

To be frank, Daud had almost forgotten about his promise to Eileen until the day of. It was standard sparring for the evening, Whaler against Whaler with Daud occasionally jumping in to either instruct or challenge. It was after the fifth match when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and a dark figure in the corner of his eye.

“Well,” Eileen spoke, voice sly. “Shall we?” 

Daud sighed, head tilted back, then nodded. “Alright. Carlo!” The former sailor standing next to the training weapons rack stiffened. “Get Eileen a sword.”

“Make that two blades, lad.” She corrected. “It’s what I’m used to.”

“Aye-aye.” Carlo replied with a shrug, handing the woman a pair of blades. “Here you go, Eileen. I would say good luck--”

“Luck is of little use to me.” She said, cutting him off. “But I appreciate the thought.”

The room’s chatter quieted to a murmur as the strange duo entered the duelling ring. Eileen skirted the edge, finally stopping when she stood opposite of Daud. Out of the corner of his eye, Daud could see Whalers leaning in towards Nicholas, unofficial bet-taker of the gang, whispering into his ear who they thought would win or lose.

He turned his attention back to Eileen, who stood stock still on the other side of the ring, blades by her side, almost obscured by her feather cloak. He could feel her eyes watching, studying him from under the mask, waiting for him to make the first move. He stared back.

And then he blinked, sword already swinging. As he reappeared in front of Eileen, he was shocked to find his sword barely grazing the black mass of her cloak as she nimbly side stepped his blow. Her two swords swiped at his middrift, the tips running uncomfortably along the edge of his wool coat as he hopped back, just in time. She rushed at him, her blades a flurry of blows that Daud barely managed to parry and dodge, suddenly rolling away as Daud tried to score a hit amongst the storm. She came to her feet on the other side of the arena, keeping her distance as they circled each other.

She jumped forward, their blades meeting with a brief clang of steel as Daud blocked, hopping back when he pushed against her. He blinked again, to her side this time, aiming to stun her arm and make her drop at least one of her weapons. He felt the hilt make contact with her wrist and the dull clatter of one of her blades dropping to the floor as Eileen hissed, pulling her arm back as Daud blinked to the other side of the ring, kicking the sword to the other side before doing so.

He stood over the dropped blade, carefully watching Eileen as she briefly weighed her remaining blade, holding it carefully in front of her as she waited for Daud to make the next move, her weight shifting to favor her right leg, keeping weight off the one that had been wounded.

 Daud frowned. Was Julian wrong? Was Eileen not as well healed as he’d thought? Damn, he hoped he wasn’t pushing her too hard, he’d hate for her to end up in even worse shape on his account.

He didn’t have time to continue the thought as Eileen rushed forward again, blade raised. He blocked her, pushing back to try and throw her off. They struggled for a moment, and he could feel Eileen’s slimmer, faster frame beginning to give under his bulk. She collapsed, her leg seemingly giving out. 

Daud had enough time to process the panic that hit him and the gasp of the Whalers watching before his own legs were swept out from underneath him and he hit the floor with a loud  _ thud _ , his sword skittering across the arena as it loosed itself from his hand. A boot firmly planted itself in his back, pinning him thoroughly. 

“Holy shit.” he heard a Whaler whisper in the stunned silence.

“Not bad, Daud, not bad at all.” Eileen confidently said, voice slightly breathless. He felt the pressure from his back remove himself, Eileen’s gloved hand offering to help him up. He accepted the gesture, hauling himself to his feet.

“You don’t exactly fight fair.” He huffed in amusement, not particularly upset at Eileen’s trick. Impressed, if anything.

“There’s no such thing as a fair fight.” She replied. “Besides, I don’t have the tricks that you do.”

Daud nodded, smirking slightly. “Fair enough." He held out his hand. "Good fight, Eileen." 

"I'll say." The grin was clear in her voice as she took it, giving it a firm shake. "Let's do this again sometime, hm?"

"Yes, let's." He glanced over his shoulder, frowning when he saw men begrudgingly handing over their coins over to Nicholas, having clearly though Daud would be the victor. Well, except Carlo, who stood smugly next to Julian, holding a hefty pouch of winnings. Julian simply looked unamused at the entire situation.

"I  _ told  _ you she'd win." Carlo softly bragged as he leaned towards Julian. "She's tough. I heard some of the stuff she did when I shared the infirmary with her, it's crazy."

"I was there too. I run the infirmary, remember?" Julian replied flatly.

"Oh. Right."

Daud watched the Whalers for a moment more before turning back to Eileen, stretching, feeling something pop in his back.

"Well, I think that's enough sparring for me today." He muttered. "Probably should stop them from betting."

"Eh, let them." Eileen said with a shrug. "It'll teach them to think twice before underestimating an old woman." She chuckled. "I must say, fighting someone with their mind intact certainly made things much easier. Although, I wasn't sure I'd get you to fall for the leg trick."

Daud frowned. "Who exactly were you fighting before?"

Eileen stilled, folding her arms, her voice very suddenly turning cold. "That's a conversation for another day, Daud."

Daud almost flinched at the nerve he very clearly struck and sudden change in demeanor. Considering Eileen had just beaten him quite cleanly in a fight, pressing her for further details seemed inadvisable at best.

"Alright, another day then." he grunted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Corvo let out a curious hum as he looked over the report in his hand, eyebrows briefly raising. The hunter looked up from his book at the noise, craning his neck over the edge of the chair to look at the man.

“Did you find a lead?”

“No, don’t think so.” Corvo replied, setting the paper aside. “Just a new Overseer that just joined the main body at the Abbey here, probably to make up for the losses that you caused.”

The hunter flinched at the reminder. “Do you think that’s it?”

Corvo shrugged. “I’m not sure.” he gestured at the parchment at the edge of his desk. “Feel free to have a look if you want.” The man picked it up and quickly scanned if over, suddenly going very still as he read the name. Corvo glanced up.

"Recognize anything?"

"Please don't be who I think it is…" The hunter muttered, seemingly oblivious of Corvo's question, continuing to read the report. He stopped on another line, apparently finding what he was looking for. " _ Damn it!" _

"That doesn't sound good." Corvo said dryly.

The hunter sighed. "It's not really good or bad, just… concerning, I suppose. This new 'Overseer' is a former Executioner I once knew, I believe. Unless this is all some lucky coincidence, which I can only pray that it is."

"Neither of our luck is that good. Is he something we should prioritize?”

The hunter hesitated, worrying his lower lip with his teeth, before replying, painfully slowly and hesitantly, “...No, I don’t… think so.” His mouth twisted into a humorless smile. “I suppose that he’ll just kill himself again, in the end. Be the martyr for some other cause. He won’t hurt the common people.” He laughed emptily and shook his head. “Alfred… I never was sure what to make of him.”

Corvo watched him warily for a moment before responding with a slight nod. “Alright. I… I trust your judgement. Do you want to try and contact him?”

The hunter recoiled, shaking his head sharply. “No, no. He’s a zealot in the most polite of terms. If he’s working for your Abbey, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill you or Daud for heresy. And he is a very dangerous man. It’s best if we leave him be.” 

“Ah.” Corvo could see the unease the hunter was so desperately trying to hide.  _ Something  _ about this Alfred disturbed the man, but it was clear to Corvo that the hunter wasn’t sure why. But if the hunter thought it best to simply leave the new Overseer alone, then Corvo would do so. He didn’t want to risk any more trouble.

He glanced back at his desk, groaning when he saw the remaining envelope, its gaudy red seal emblazoned upon it.

A Boyle party, and he was invited.

Oh, the irony.

“Might have to send an apology for that.” He grumbled, setting the invitation aside, not bothering to even open it. The hunter picked it up curiously, flipping the envelope over and back again. 

“This is very nice paper.” he stated matter-of-factly.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the inside was hand embossed in gold ink and full of glitter.” Corvo replied, only half-sarcastic. “The Boyles always liked to be showy.” He flicked his hand at the invitation, turning back to his work. “Feel free to open it, it’s not going to contain anything private. Besides, I’m not going to go.”

The hunter blinked at him, then shrugged, breaking the seal with a satisfying snap. There was a shuffling of paper as the hunter pulled the actual invite out of its sheath, letting out a quiet, bemused “Oh.”

Corvo looked up and snorted, covering his mouth as he tried not to laugh. The hunter’s brow furrowed.

“I suppose you were right about the glitter.” he said, looking down at his now embarrassingly sparkly shirt and trousers with a look of irritation. “I’m terribly sorry about the carpet.”

Corvo waved his hand dismissively. “It’s fine, I can get someone to clean it up later. What does it say?”

The hunter squinted at the writing, which Corvo could only assume was in a painfully fanciful cursive, decorated with an unreasonable number curlicues, nigh unreadable to anyone but the Boyles themselves.

“It says you’re invited to a costume party that starts at 9:00 p.m. on…” He glanced up at Corvo with a confused frown. “Your world has a very strange dating system, Mister Attano.” He showed Corvo the date on the paper. 

Corvo glanced it over (he was right about the curlicues), before leaning back in his seat. “That’s about two weeks away.”

“Hm.” The hunter resumed his reading. “It says you can bring up to 5 other guests, food and beverages will be served, etcetera, etcetera…” He glanced back up. “That sounds like quite a party. It’s funny that the date lies so close to the meeting with Eileen.”

Corvo huffed, crossing his arms. “With our luck, the Boyles will be the one with the next rune, and I’ll have to go.” He sighed, tilting his head back tiredly. “At least I’d be invited this time. Not that I want to go.”

“I don’t blame you.” The hunter glanced down at his shining pants with a distasteful grimace. “Do you mind if I leave you alone for a short time? I don’t think I can stand looking like this for much longer. And I don’t believe I’m doing any further favors for your maids.”

“No, go ahead. Although, Emily would’ve loved to see you like that.” Corvo chuckled.

The hunter laughed as well, a genuine one this time. “Perhaps! Perhaps. Although, I think she’d like to see you like this even more. Maybe you should have opened the letter instead.” 

Corvo gave the hunter an amused smile at the thought. “Maybe I should have. Now, you should go change your pants and shirt, I think it’s approaching dinner.”

“Oh, well, I certainly can’t look like this then!” The hunter called over his shoulder one last time, the door swinging shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's another chapter!! enjoy!  
> school's hard my dudes but the mental image of the good hunter covered in glitter makes things easier


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